Bakura, The Demon Barber of Fleet Street
by CandyassGoth
Summary: The YGO adaptation of Sweeney Todd. An exiled barber, Bakura, returns to London to enact his revenge on those that ruined his life. Contains themes of Yaoi, blood and violence, various pairings and a tragic story. By CandyassGoth. NOW ON HAITUS WHILE I WRITE MY NOVEL
1. Arrival

Welcome all! –glomps readers- Thank you for joining me in my new story! **'**_**Bakura, The Demon Barber of Fleet Street'**_

Now, I love the movie Sweeney Todd by Tim Burton, and his amazing cast of Johnny Depp –melts-, Helena Bonham Carter, and Alan Rickman- and…that…er…Wormtail! Yes, that's his name…yes, them, I just loved it. I am a freak of nature, so of course I liked it. I have never seen a theatre play of it or anything but the movie, but apparently there are many different adaptations, it all depends on who is making it. SO! This fic will obviously be my adaptation. I mean, I never wrote it, so I will not know everything. I will try understand it as much as I can and vividly depict it to you all with our beloved characters!

I will probably make mistakes with their emotions and such, I am only a **rookie**. If you feel I am just not doing anything right then tell me and I'll try fix my fault. The movie was brilliant, I have watched it so many times, and each time I understand a little more of its mysteries. Its tragic, which already puts most people off, but I thought it was dark and beautiful, the Addams family would have given a round of applause! As do I!

And so, if you know me by now and trust me, know that the YinYang Goddess will made good on this fic, she will try her best! It's Sweeney Todd and YGO-how could I not?

Also, I MUST point out that this story is NOT written for pairings. It is written for the story, but I have placed the characters flawlessly so that everything will fit, in a weird way of course. I will NOT change the pairings just because someone doesn't like it, try branch out in your pairings. Shippings like Deathshipping, Psychoshipping and Caste/Darkshipping need more love! Siriusly! Anyway, this fic should still be entertaining enough. I have placed guys in the canon female roles as of course this is yaoi. IT IS YAOI. BOYxBOY. I WANT ALL MEN IN THERE RA-DAMMIT! _ I was going to put in Mai…but…not in this fic…she can wait. –hugs Mai-

My characters are set in stone I'm afraid, I really think I placed them perfectly for it all to flow smoothly, be open minded you one track minded pervs. Other pairings are fun.

So, no, this will **not** be puzzleshipping. But Bakura is the main character, ehehehe, BAKURA WILL BE SWEENEY! MWAHAHAHAHA! BAKURA LOVES HIS KNIVES!

**Also, this isn't technically a musical, I can't see Bakura singing his sorrow. The words are spoken, but sometimes sung or hummed if I specify.**

**I do not own YuGiOh or Sweeney Todd, The Demon Barber of Fleet Street. It is not my property at all, I am simply borrowing the characters and plot to put a spin on it.**

**Chapter 1: Arrival**

England; a place of chilly misery. How cold and dreary each day was. _Is_.

_Always will be…_

Dirty, stuffy old London…

It was a haven for cunning men that knew how to use it to their advantage, and a hellhole for the rest. It was eat, or be eaten. Kill or be killed, their was no in between, no mercy…

**No. Mercy.**

A small cargo ship glided its way through the suffocating fog of the harbour, floating skilfully into the wooden docks. Heavy blackness hung high above the filthy sails and masts, enveloping the land as far as the eye could see. It worked in union with the thick smog of London's air, laying heavy on the shoulders, and hearts, of the town's inhabitants.

Darkness; why so common? Why so near…? From the ebony heavens, to the dilapidated grey walls, to the wicked souls that live in them, to the murky depths of the puddles and moats; darkness reigned.

_Oh yes, it reigned._

It was _his_ solace, his motto, his thoughts…_his heart…_

**XxXxXxXxXx**

Staring over the deck with inquisitive eyes stood a young man, lacking in height, but large in heart. His amethyst orbs shone brightly as he took in his new destination, soaking up the hanging signs, the glowing lights, the adjacent buildings. He loved travelling the world, there was so much knowledge and experiences to be had. Freedom was his forte, as was humility and love.

His wild, colourful hair danced in the breeze, the erratic rhythm too playful for the ominous shadows covering the town. Yet while seeing the gloom behind the fog, he did not give in to the theme, and held onto a cheery hum as he leaning onto the wooden beam of the ship.

"I have sailed the world and beheld its wonders…from the Dardanelles to the mountains of Peru…but there's no place like London-"

"No, there's no place like London."

Snapping the young sailor out of his thoughts, a taller figure appeared besides him like an apparition. His deep voice, accented by a strong accent, cut bluntly through the misty air. The younger male knew this man, they had become acquainted during the voyage, but he was still a stranger, as much the first day they met. The rest of the crew found the pale, bland man odd, and so avoided him whenever possible.

"…Mr. Bakura?"

Said man did not acknowledge his presence, he kept his mahogany eyes straight ahead as if he could see through the fog and into the clattering of the town, the smaller male's form a mere wisp in the in the air from his morbid view of the world.

With a solemn visage void of emotion, the elder man- with wild white hair and deathly pale skin- parted his paper-like lips. The only sign of feeling that flickered on his face was a microscopic disgruntled grimace, supported by a low resentful mutter that his companion silently recognized. "…You are young, Yugi. Life has been good to you…"

Silence hung between them, lacing the words with an uncomfortable layer of implicit secrets. The short adolescent looked up into the dark eyes, benevolently seeking an explanation. The sordid man's eyes were glassy and black, as if his pupils had extended and dominated. There was a short pause, change only evident when Bakura spoke once more, a grim foreboding taunting its receiver. "…but you will learn…"

For that, Yugi had no response, and watched with hesitant curiosity as the lean-framed man stepped forward towards the point of the vessel. He trailed cautiously after, but did not see the bleak nostalgia written upon the pale face as the corresponding eyes trailed the surrounding harbour, watching regretfully, yet physically stoically as the bridge across the path into the docks lifted and separated to welcome them back into the miserable city.

_London… the birthplace of his tortured existence… _

_London…_

_Never would this **cesspool** fool him again...no… he had learnt…as will the boy besides him._

"There is a hole in the world, son, like a great black _pit_, and the vermin of the world inhabit it."

"…Do you…-?"

"Its morals aren't worth what a pig would spit," spat the man, seemingly unaware of the irony. Still he spared Yugi no glance, but the acid crackling over his tongue gave a clear indication of his bitter resentment, though to what it was directed, Yugi did not know.

"…It goes by the name of _London_."

Or maybe _that_ was the answer.

"At the top of the hole sit a privileged few making mock of the vermin in the lower zoo, turning beauty into filth and greed- I _too_ have sailed the world and seen its wonders…"

A smile graced Yugi's soft face, his final transition into manhood finally ridding him of his baby fat. He did not quite understand Mr. Bakura's meaning, but he did know about the wonders of the world.

"For the cruelty of men is as wondrous as Peru, _but_- …there is **no** place like _London…_"

Oh yes, Mr. Bakura held a lot of resentment, seemingly for London, but what did he mean? Yugi was a smart lad, but he was ignorant in the ways of a real man's world. He could not possibly _hope_ to comprehend the deep meaning of his acquaintance's words.

But what had London done to this man for him to hold such obvious hatred? His past was a taboo secret, only drastically incorrect rumours were passed around. Yugi had tried a few times to coax out some kind of information in hopes of helping the male, but… it was as if…as if there was nothing to be said.

The boy knew surely this mysterious man held a dark past, but when looking into his eyes he said nothing…they were flat and empty, as if the fire in them had simmered down and burnt out completely. He felt sympathy for the man who seemed oblivious to his living-death state, and so he chose not to press the man for information, and simply let him know he was there if he needed to speak.

He did not know, however, that his offer would never be taken.

No.

_His_ voice and opinion did not matter. It did not matter _fifteen years ago_ and it _did not_ matter _now_…

_His_ voice had been ignored…silenced…_exiled_…He did not need his _voice_ any longer.

Interrupting their grim conversation, and igniting Yugi's natural optimism came the time to safely dock the ship. The crew pulled their weight and finally had the ship settled against the docks, securing the roping at the proper posts before they were allowed to venture off into the city night.

The stone land was just as bleak as the harbour, its aura as far from 'alive' as could be.

_**It was dead.**_

The sailors hurried off to vacate the ship, eager for the pleasures of the nightlife of a major port. Food, beer and women were in abundance, as long as your money was.

Bakura and Yugi were near the last to exit, making their way patiently onto the cobblestone walkway that lead into the mouth of hell. The younger male glanced around in awe, seemingly unaware of the lifelessness and hidden threats. His companion did not share his enthusiasm, and glared around with a blank expression, concealed with dormant anger.

Catching onto it, Yugi stared at the back of Bakura's white head. "…Is everything alright, Mr. Bakura?"

If he did not have that tiny morsel of acknowledgement for the young lad, he would have completely ignored him and walked off. The boy had been nothing but friendly to him during the voyage. Bakura's blank expression flickered as he attempted to sound less morbid than he felt.

"I beg your indulgence, Yugi…but my mind is far from easy."

Yugi did not comment on the sombrely tone, he hadn't even known it was a poor attempt of normality, and listened on.

"In these once familiar streets, I feel shadows…everywhere," And indeed, Yugi had never seen a shadier town, but his optimism blinded him from the truth. The tall-dilapidated buildings adjacent to one another were crammed by the dozens, the alleys and streets nothing more than dark paths into complete nothingness. The city was void of life, the measly lamps clinging around did nothing to disperse the dark, and those that dwelled within it.

"…Shadows?"

Clearly, the young boy was confused, and Bakura had no will to give an explanation. He did not fear the dark, he did not believe in supernatural entities that one would associate with 'shadows'… _His shadows were his past…_ They were not the bright gleaming memories that everyone wanted…they were nothing but-

"Ghosts." He corrected sullenly. His expression held grief, and melancholy. Yugi did not see it for he was behind him, but he could hear it ring clearly in his voice. The amethyst-eyed boy understood a little clearer now, but he was only reassured of Mr. Bakura's tragic past- he did not know any details of it.

Eerily, Bakura caught onto his thoughts, and on a sudden whim, he decided to indulge the other on what he was eager to hear. He would never seen the fellow again, so what harm would it do to allow him some light before it was too late? His past would mean nothing to the boy, a mere tale before bed that would be forgotten in sleep.

Yugi mimicked Bakura's sudden steps, and trailed silently after him as a strange ambience settled around them. It was clear the taller man had something on his mind, and it seemed he would express it.

When he spoke it was as if he was telling an old story, one that did not belong to him, one that he had learnt by heart… one that…_broke_ one's heart.

"There was a barber and his mate…and _he_ was beautiful… A foolish barber and his mate… _He_ was his reason and his life… and _he_ was beautiful…" Oh yes, _he_ was beautiful… Bakura could not forget his partner's face…his sharp chin, high cheekbones, those…gorgeous crimson orbs below that tri-coloured hair… Their child had been just as beautiful, but inherited his father's mop of white hair and deep chocolate eyes. Nevertheless, his little family had been perfect…but little Yugi did not need to know everything of his past… _his past was his own…_

Clearly whomever Mr. Bakura spoke of held high status in his eyes, almost reverence… Yugi listened on.

"And _he_ was virtuous…but the barber was…naïve…"

The sadness echoing in his voice threatened to take over Yugi's heart. The words did not give any sense of comfort, if anything it made him suspicious for anticipation of a greater sadness.

Bakura's expression darkened dangerously as the next part of his story unfolded, a small ache making itself present as visions of untamed dirty blonde hair and lazy lilac eyes drifted past, taunting him with the vengeance he had yet to enjoy. "There was another man who saw, that _he_ was beautiful… A pious _vulture_ of the law, who, with a gesture of his claw, removed the barber from his plate. Then there was nothing but to wait, and _he_ would fall…-so soft, so young, so lost and oh _so_ beautiful…" It had been so many years ago…but he could not forget…he _would_ not forget…That heinous monster of a judge had taken away his life…his family…he had cruelly ripped it all away…for self-happiness. The ultimate selfishness.

Watching that judge approach his partner was the last he saw of them…he knew nothing of its outcome…_it forever haunted him._

Struck by the sudden influx of thoughts and information, Yugi struggled to process what he could amidst accessing the overall emotions of his friend. He had one question to ask, the only he could think of.

"…The partner, sir, did he give in?"

When Bakura responded, he began off with a helpless tone, one that morphed into a resentful hum, "That was many years ago…I doubt if anyone would even know."

Realizing he had perhaps said too much, Bakura concluded his tale, and glanced wearily at Yugi. He did not give him the honour of eye contact, but gave him his attention and grateful words. "I'd like to thank you, Yugi." Said male automatically found himself smiling in hope for the man, and stepped forward in hopes of a lighter topic when his sullen companion continued, "If you hadn't spotted me I'd be lost on the ocean still."

A grave topic once more, and the smile faulted. "…Will I see you again, Mr. Bakura?"

Bakura hadn't expected to ever seen the boy again, it meant little to him, but he was not in the mood to be rude. The surrounding gloom had settle heavily on his shoulders like a huge raincoat, and instead of protecting him, it made sure whatever demons haunted him, remained so.

"…You might find me if you like. Around Fleet Street no doubt."

The man looked off, probably in the direct he spoke of. Yugi pulled back on his jovial smile and held his hand out with a sure nod. "Until then, my friend."

He was as much in the mood for pleasantries as he was for obscenities, and so he simply turned, and walked away. He had conversation enough for one night, he had been verbal more so than ever, and he deemed his job done.

The young sailor watched him leave, and with a small smile, he adjusted the sack on his back and headed off in the opposite direction.

Forgetting his sullenness, Bakura stepped up the pace and speed walked to his destination. He remembered the routes, the alleys, the streets. He passed by without a second glance, muttering a rhyme under his breath of "_There's a hole in the whole like a great black pit, and it's filled with people who are full of shit and the vermin of the world inhabit it_.", whilst passing the undesirables of the town. He could have spoken those words to Yugi, but the boy would learn on his own. The best way to learn was to make your own mistakes.

There was nothing to see as he marched off, his white-hair swaying behind him like a cloak. When he made it to his destined street, he crept from a corner and peered onto the open, watching nameless people trudge by. The moonlight shone through the clouds, accenting a certain feature on his face that he received those fifteen years ago…_a scar_… given to him by the so-called protectors of the public simply because he tried to convince them of his truthful innocence.

_Life was cruel…_

Without further delay, he spotted the small building that he had his mind set on, the last place he had called home, and drifted towards it, like a ghost. The words '**Malik Ishtar's Meat Pie Emporium**' stuck out in white on both corners of the grey walls above the filthy windows. There was light shimmering from inside, thank goodness for that, Bakura secretly did not know where else he could go if this building had been empty…no one would remember him after all these years…

Edged with curiosity, he revived his limbs and approached the glass door to push it open carefully, finding himself in the presence of an exotic blond-haired beauty, toiling over his bakery station.

**XxXxXxXxXx**

HUZZAH! FIRST CHAPTER IS DONE! Le gasp! I did it! WHOOOO! Okay, now, is the guessing game lol. Bakura is obviously Sweeney Todd. His scar is the equivalent to Sweeney's Streak of white hair, a symbol of his distress, his tragic past. The judge did not give it to him, it was the policemen he had ordered to get rid of him.

I wrote this as I watched the corresponding scenes on DVD, rewinding continuously and trying to decipher everything. Todd was not a cold-blooded murderer, he was a sad person, he was metaphorically already dead after those fifteen years of being exiled. Everything was torn from him because another man was greedy and wanted what he had, imagine going through what Todd had, who wouldn't end up like him? Fifteen years is too long to hold anger as a first response, rather he became dead and lifeless for the most part, and only when confronted with the ghosts of his past was he able to surface his anger and rid them one by one, gaining his revenge.

Yugi will be Anthony, the sweet little sailor that I see as a damn uke. Honestly, his lips are fuller than mine, I'm surprised he wasn't raped when wondering around in the town lol. So, I have implied four other characters, Bakura's wife and child, the Judge and Mrs. Lovett. It is pretty obvious with all the descriptions I gave, so can you piece it together? And is it confusing as to why I placed them all like that, or is it actually making some sense? Eehehehehe...

I would appreciate your thoughts and comments! If you're here to complain about the story being a tragic sob story or some bullshit then you're wasting your time, simply don't read it. I am excited for your feedback and I am ready to answer your questions! I know it's strange, and I don't want to spoil too much for you guys, but hey, ask if you need to clear up something!

I will not update this too soon, I need to finish U.B before I jump on full-steam ahead, this is just to initiate it into our fandom.

Review please, what do you think? I IS EXCITED! EEEEEEE-!


	2. Malik Ishtar

'Hello! I apologize for the long wait, but I had to sort out a bunch of stuff before I could continue this, I really need to be able to think and concentrate to make this right.

So! This is going to be fun! MWAHAHAHAHA! So, I was asked if I will take a few of my own liberties with this fic, and honestly I wasn't sure. I thought and thought and thought until I couldn't think anymore and I figured I probably will change a few things to make it better and not just a rewrite. What those things are, I don't know, lol, I will know when I get there.

The response to the first chapter was awesome people, thank you very much for that and my first reviewers! WHOO HOO!

**I do not own YuGiOh or Sweeney Todd. **

**Chapter 2: Malik Ishtar**

Last time:

_Edged with curiosity, he revived his limbs and approached the glass door to push it open carefully, finding himself in the presence of an exotic blond-haired beauty, toiling over his bakery station._

He entered the store with the eerily familiar creaking of the shop door, meeting the monotonous clanking of a blunt knife against what sounded to be a wooden board. His narrow eyes surveyed the gloomy area, widening slightly with a shift of expression at the male behind the counter.

Standing slumped behind the flour and dust covered counter was an enchanting male, his posture exhibiting fatigue and boredom. His face was down, staring as he incessantly brought down a large knife to slice though a clump of dough in his hands, clearly with no regard to whether he caught his own fingers or not. His ash-yellow hair stood in an untamed mess, complimenting the caramel tone of his skin.

Years ago, Bakura would have linked this male with the word 'beautiful', but all he could think of was 'psycho' as he watched the man sighed heavily, flicking his wrist carelessly with the large knife in hold. In fact, those little flicks seemed to be rather angry, as if he were butchery a small squirming animal.

Keeping his eyes on the male, Bakura stepped back, unsure of what to expect from this…person.

Unfortunately for him, the other man looked up with one last clank of his knife, looking as if he was about to sigh again, when his eyes lit up like Christmas lights. Again, Bakura would have seen him as beautiful, which he probably was, but he did not see things the normal way. Not anymore.

Back to the tanned beauty, he stood up straight, as if to attention, and jabbed his knife into the wood on his workstation with a loud gasp.

"A customer!"

Taking another step back, Bakura wondered whether this man was a threat. It struck him as unlikely though, the male had on women's eyeliner, the petite form of a woman, and was dressed in a loose fitting dirty white shirt that hung off his left shoulder, his tight brown pants ending just below his knees. He had dropped the knife and left it behind as he rushed around the counter as if running from the plague, his expression a tad _too _eager for a mere customer.

Bakura leaned away slightly as the male grabbing his upper arms, but allowed him to practically force him into a seat. He had nowhere else to go, and he could easily dispatch this person if he tried to harm him so he kept silent as he studied this new character.

"What's your rush, handsome? Gave me such a fright I thought you were a ghost!" Malik Ishtar exclaimed as he grabbed the silver-haired male, tugging him and nudging him down into a seat with a encouraging "SIT!". He had honestly gotten a fright, this had to be the first living person to enter the store in a while, besides himself of course. Realising he had been a little over the top he backed up, pushed the shop door closed and headed straight for his counter top. "All I meant was that I haven't seen a customer in weeks…"

Bakura remained stoic and blank. He glanced around briefly when the man's back was turned, it was no wonder he hadn't seen customers in so long, it looked and felt like a mortuary, darkness and dust covering everything.

Back behind his counter, Malik attempted to put his 'business' mask on. However, he had never been much of a salesman. "Did you come in for a pie, sir?" he asked, receiving no verbal or visual answer. He was not put off, he did not expect one, as a matter of fact. He shrugged indifferently and pulled the vertical knife from the wood, dumping it back down and wiping his forehead with two fingers, his expression a fix between being sheepish and apologetic. "Do forgive me if my head's a little vague…" he mumbled, frowning at the dust wooden board as he picked up a big cockroach with his bare fingers, dropping it to the floor as if dropping a mere dust speck, then stomping it enthusiastically. "You'd think we have the plague, the way people keep avoiding-no you don't!" he exclaimed, bringing his hand down onto the counter, squashing another vermin.

Bakura's face morphed into one of very mild shock and repellence, his lips pulling and his brows sinking in at the bridge of his nose as Malik wiped his hand on his shirt as if that would clean it from vermin germs.

Oblivious to it all, Malik went about his business, grabbing onto a random pie and dropping it onto an equally random plat found along the counter, blowing the dust off them both as he made his way back to Bakura. "Heaven knows I try sir, but no one comes in, not even to inhale…" he unceremoniously placed the plate down on the table Bakura sat at, sliding it towards him with much less enthusiasm than he stared out with. "You would like a mug of ale?"

Again Bakura kept silent, having asked for none of these services. Malik walked away anyway, back to his station. "Mind you," he called, "I can hardly blame them, these are probably the worst pies in London…"

Bakura eyed the stale-looking pie with contempt as he gingerly pulled the saucer closer, purely out of dark curiosity. It was uneven, looked hard as a rock, and seemed to be turning grey. He hesitated to pick it up, tilting his head as he pulled his lips in obvious repulsion, moving it around the saucer aimlessly when he did so.

"I know why nobody cares to take them. Is _should_ know, I make them." Malik chuckled humourlessly, sprinkling flour over his already heaped board. He scooped a thick slosh of what he used as the gravy for his pies and poured it into an open pastry, unaware of Bakura sniffing his pie cautiously.

He didn't miss the sound of crunching though, and looked up in mild surprise, watching the man grimace from his first bite. Smiling without humour, Malik grabbed a mug, glancing inside it and pouring out its contents into his gravy mixture before turning to fill it with ale. "Isn't that just disgusting? You have to admit… it's nothing but crusting. Here," he approached, dropping down the ale next to the saucer, "drink this, you'll need it."

Bakura distastefully turned his head and spat out the horrible pastry, dropping the rest down onto the plate with a glare. He gave a suspicious glance at the mug of ale, looking up at Malik with a miffed expression as he spat out a few more particles.

Heading back to his counter now with a heavier pound in his steps, Malik grabbed a ball of dough from another bowl, and threw it down onto the flour heaps. He began to knead the life out of it, putting his back into it as if he were killing an enemy. When he spoke his tone seemed to have changed again, from sullenness to irritation and once more Bakura linked the male to 'psycho', and this time 'schizophrenia'.

Throwing the dough around, Malik continued, "And with the price of meat what it is, _when_ you get it… Never thought I'd live to see the day men'd think it was a treat to find poor animals that are dying in the street-" Clearly this Malik was upset, grabbing onto his rolling-pin and whacking the dough with it. A brow raised on Bakura's face, leaning back slightly as he watched the man vent out his frustrations, keeping an eye on the rolling-pin in case it turned his way.

"See, Mr Devlin's got a pie shop. Does his business but I noticed something weird- lately all his neighbours' cats have disappeared. Gotta hand it to 'im, what I call enterprise, poppin' pussies into pies…" Bakura raised a finger for a second, pondering whether to tell him it was probably a coincidence and that he was going to leave now, but the blatant line of 'poppin' pussies into pies' kept him silent, having neither heard of such a thing before. At least not in a proper business.

Slamming the rolling-pin down, flour scattering, Malik grabbed onto the ends and began flattening the dough, rolling his shoulders as he pushed it back and forth, a small snarl on his features. "Wouldn't do it in my shop! Just the thought of it's enough to make you sick. An' damn those pussy cats are quick…"

Bakura gave the male a look of repugnance, having caught on the ending whisper of exasperation as Malik worked the dough. Dropping his gaze, he glanced down at the pie in his saucer, the outcome of what Malik was currently making, watching as a large cockroach scrambled out of the bite hole.

"...But times hard are now, sir. Even harder than the worst pies in London," Malik added as a joke, gesturing to the pie he was making, covering the gravy filled centre with a thick layer of pastry which would no doubt become nothing but hard crust, while unaware, or maybe he just didn't care, about the roach he had sealed in. "It's only lard, nothing more." He glanced up, seeing Bakura's face twist as he ran his tongue around his mouth at the foul taste that lingered. "All greasy…and gritty. It looks like it's molting, and tastes like…well, revolting."

Unable to handle the taste that settled in his mouth, Bakura reached for the ale, desperate for relief, and sniffed the contents a few times before taking a drink. He cringed lightly, it wasn't fresh at all, but it was better than that _thing_ called a pie.

After popping a new batch of pies into his oven, Malik turned back to Bakura, and leaned his elbows onto the counter top, his chin resting on his right hand. Whether or not be was trying to be seductive Bakura didn't know, nor care, all he could see were the vermin scurrying about on the same counter top.

"Ah sir…times are hard." He complained, following Bakura's gaze, lifting his rolling-pin and bringing it down to splatter yet another cockroach across his work station, leaving a wet patch on his flour covered tool.

Glancing up, he saw Bakura pulling a face, staring at the mug reluctantly. He knew what the problem was of course, and he was in no means surprised, nor was he offended. "…It's gonna take a lot more than ale to wash that taste out."

Bakura pushed the mug away, looking up with his stoic expression. Malik pushed away from the table, dropping the rolling-pin, and walked past him, gesturing with two fingers to be followed. "Come on, we'll get you a nice tumbler of gin, eh?"

Malik dusted his hands off onto his shirt, sneakily adjusting the fabric so it showed more skin. His guest rose much less enthusiastically and followed along after him into the private sector of the building in which Malik obviously resided.

Bakura needn't be led around, for he had lived here, many years ago. Despite the gloom that conquered every nook and cranny, it was still familiar from the days when it was alive and vibrant, when he lived here with his family… His steps slowed as he took in the details, his face falling into deep sombre at the sight of the stairs that led to the second floor... to his old home.

"Isn't this homely?" Malik asked, leading Bakura into a livingroom. He headed straight for a glass bottle on a cabinet, filling a small shot glass with clear gin and handed it to the quiet man. He nodded towards the chairs, "Sit down, warm yourself."

Having survived this strange man so far, Bakura stiffly accepted the gin, glancing at Malik before heading to a seat. When then tanned male didn't speak, he took the chance to finally use his voice. "..You got a room over the shop here. If times are so hard, why not rent it out?"

Malik was secretly pleased to hear his voice, as dead as it may be, for it helped confirm certain suspicions. Playing dumb, Malik glanced up at the ceiling. "What, up there? No one will go near it… people think it's haunted."

The mystical tone Malik used was obviously supposed to get some reaction from him, but the most Bakura could muster was mild curiosity. "…Haunted?"

"Yeah, and who's to say they're wrong?" It wasn't often Malik had visitors, despite his beauty, he was just too…_unorthodox_ for the public to want to mix with him. Having such a handsome man in his livingroom him urged him to keep this man entertained, especially _if_ he was who he thought he was. Walking up to Bakura, stepping lightly, and sashaying just a bit, Malik sat down with his own shot glass.

"You see, years ago, something happened up there, something not very nice." It sounded like there was pity in Malik's voice, Bakura wasn't certain, his mind now drifting off, as well as his dull gaze.

Malik stared intently at the man, who had yet to give him a name. He was sure he knew who this man was, maybe a small jog of his memory would… answer his question.

"Long ago, a barber lived here. He was… proper artist with knife, but they transported him for life…and he was beautiful… …_Akefia_, his name was."

The way Malik said his name…his _old name_… it was like he was trying to provoke something. But Bakura remained calm and collected. He remembered that name… but he didn't want to, for it came with many memories.

He could see Malik leaning towards him, staring holes into his face, but he relented, staring at the wallpaper instead.

A part of him told him that he knew this blond male, but that was so many years ago, and he hadn't come back to make friends. Oh no, certainly not to make friends. But this Mr. Ishtar seemed to know a lot about _him_, he was curious as to how much.

"…And what was his crime?"

Malik had few words to answer that line with, but gave the least harsh and more playful one he could think of. "Foolishness."

Once more no response was received, Bakura's brown eyes glued in a direction Malik wished he could sit in. He looked away, sighing softly as if reliving a sad story. "He had this partner, you see. Good-looking, strong willed, but foolish too. He could've had it all, poor thing. See, there was this judge-" Malik glanced up, watching Bakura carefully, "and everyday he'd be there, trying to woo him. But did he ever accept? No…he locked himself up, him and his baby… he did nothing but sob and mope. He was fool…"

This was not something he had heard before, this must have happened after he had been exiled, so Bakura gave a bit more of his attention, especially if it had to do with his partner.

"It only got worse. One night, Beadle Ushio called on him, the partner, saying the Judge was ashamed of causing his strife... He was taken to the Judge's house, thinking the man was going to repent but… it wasn't quite like that. There was a masquerade party, all rich folk, so he didn't know anyone. He ended up wandering around, drinking, lost I would expect… Eventually the Judge did appear, only…" he paused, his voice dark and sinister, nothing more than a whisper. He was glad to see Bakura's expressions twitching. "…only it wasn't to repent…He… is said to have…forced himself on-"

"NO!"

Malik jumped, eyes widening as the silverette rose to his feet, his white fists balled at his sides. His face was contorted more than it had been since he entered the store, his face lined with anger, his narrowed eyes widened in horror, his thin lips pulled in revulsion. He stood for a few seconds in shock, but it faded back into morbid melancholy, his voice coming out but a whisper. "…Would no one…have mercy on him?"

His only solace during the first few years of his exile was that his partner had escaped the clutches of the judge and found a new life for himself, and their child. But now…to hear he'd suffered…to hear that judge had hurt him further…raped him… He hadn't been there to protect him…how could he have been? He was exiled…he hadn't known… That did not make it any better… _**it made things a whole lot worse**_.

Malik however, was almost ecstatic. He felt deep pity for the story he just told of course, but he had just found out his old crush was standing right here in his home. The man was still as gorgeous as ever, it was hard to look away, even with that wretched expression painted on his pale face.

"So it _is_ you…_Akefia_."

Bakura didn't even hear Malik, his chest rising and falling a little faster as he panted lightly, his mind on someone else. "Where is my partner? Where is Yami?"

Malik stared up at him, feeling more pity for the tormented man. He had missed him dearly when he was sent away, and he had honestly tried to be there for Yami when he could, but he would be lying if he said he wouldn't have liked his own chance with the barber.

But…that was _then_…this was _now_… surely…he could have his chance now? Akefia deserved a new chance as well, a new life, and Malik was literally doing nothing but gathering dust all day long, so who better to take care of the tormented and needy soul than him? Yes… this was their second chance at happiness…the both of them.

"…He poisoned himself," Malik answered evenly, "Arsenic. I tried to stop him, but he wouldn't listen to me."

He hadn't thought it possible, but Bakura still had room to mourn. He could feel his lifeless heart cry out in pain, twist and wrench as if trying to break lose, to join his partner's… He couldn't blame him… after all that had happened… Now his only solace was that Yami refused to give in to the Judge.

"…And he's got your son."

_A snap. Inside his fluttering heart._

A snarl of repulsion drew across his face as he took in those words, "…_He_? …Judge Mariku?"

"Yes. He adopted him as his own."

Bakura swallowed thickly. He had not wanted to hear this. No. None of this. He had not returned to hear more horrors, to receive more nightmares. There was no stopping the wetness that rose in his eyes, his soulless orbs shining with a sadness no man could empathize. Intolerantly he began to shrug of his jacket, throwing it aside.

"Fifteen years I spent rotting in a living hell, on false charges, dreaming…that I might come home to a husband and child." Though his voice was laced with acid for the man that caused his horror, his face depicted what looked like disappointment. And he was disappointed. He felt foolish for having such dreams, for thinking life would have mercy on him, to grant him his family back after paying a debt that wasn't even his. But if he hadn't held onto such foolish yet encouraging dreams, would he have survived so long without going daft, or possibly dying directly from a broken heart and tortured soul?

There was so much different in Akefia now, Malik noted, from before. He was much different, but that was expected after so many years of hell. There was no light in his eyes, no spark in his voice, no meaning in his movements…he looked dead. He was deathly pale and sullen, he could pass for a ghost. Malik had not ever wished such a terrible life for him, he had mourned his leaving, and he still felt sympathy.

Sensing the quiet mood was over, Malik rose to his feet as well, looking apologetic. "I can't say the years have been particularly kind to you Akefia-"

"No," the pale man spun around, Malik raising a brow at his sudden mobility, "Not Akefia. That man is _**dead**_."

He stepped forward, almost menacingly, it took a great deal for Malik to hold his calm posture, hands on his hips, and keep eye contact with the brown eyes that now seemed to have a simmer in them. The man stared down at him, and spoke as if he dared Malik to challenge his word.

"…It's Bakura now…and I will have my revenge."

**XxXxXxXxXxXx**

OMG CHAPTER 2 IS DONE! ! ASDFGHJKL THAT WAS SO FUN ASSDFDFNB EEEEEH *Does a hand-stand. Unsuccessfully.*

Oh gosh, that was amazing. I noticed SOO many things in the movie while writing this that I did not notice before! It's amazing what proper concentration can do LOL.

So! Now, I don't know where the hell 'Akefia' comes from or who made it up, but I needed an 'old' name for Kura, just like Todd's old name was Benjamin Barker, Kura's old name was Akefia. Also, it kinda links cause in Kura's AE life he was the Thief king…? So there XD

Hikari Malik is our Mrs. Lovett, the beautiful yet psycho lady that had a crush on Todd. This makes some one-sided Thiefshipping, mwahaha! Oh but poor Kura wants his Yami back, he wants Darkshiping! And The insane judge Maliku wanted Yami, which is Clashipping! Goodness gracious! Lots of not too popular pairings here, but for the content of both stories and characters, I think it's placed well. Otherwise I'd be stressing and going all crazy and you guys know I love hating on my own work.

It's not easy task documenting the movie into script I'll tell ya, and I did change lines much more than the first chapter to make it fit better. The sing-song parts are most difficult, but I did what I could, I really can't see them singing.

Ah, and the Beadle is the judge's…right-hand man, doing all his dirty work. Since Maliku is the judge I wanted to make Odin/Rishid or Bandit Keith the Beadle, but Odin isn't creepy enough and I cannot take Keith's accent seriously enough for it to be dark and creepy. I spur of the moment choice to shove in Ushio in there, and then realised it fits nicely because he gets to beat up sailor Yugi, HAHAHAH! OH THIS IS PERFECT. I'm actually complimenting my own work, IT'S THE APOCOLYPSE! RUN PEOPLE, RUN!

I apologize for the bajillion errors, I have begun to think I cannot escape them.

The book cover for this fic was drawn by me, and it's up on DA if you want to check it out. It's a plain drawing of Todd!Kura and Lovett!Malik. If you do go check it out- the link is on my page- I drew another of Judge Mariku, whose hair went haywire and crazy lol, and sweet Johanna!- Oh, ehehehe, I bet you can all guess who Kura's son will be, it's as clear as day! If you want the spoiler, go check on DA ^_~

Thank you for reading, could I be blessed with reviews? I love thoughts! Long thoughts! I revel in long ass reviews- any reviews lol, because I am a review hoe… TwT *dresses as hobo* reviews for the poor?


	3. Encaged Beauty

Hello everyone. T_T Sorry for the long wait. I'll skip the sob story about how I am literally struggling in life and shit is bad, I'm too pale for a job here, hurray for racism in reverse!

Now, I've decided to change _Judge Malik to Judge Mariku,_ because after writing three oneshots with Yami Marik I've realized I like to refer to him as Mariku. I would use Melvin, but it's too cracky for this fic. So, I'll be changing Malik to Mariku, and changing _Marik Ishtar to Malik Ishtar_.

SO= Hikari Marik is Malik Ishtar (the role of Mrs. Lovett) Kura's insane helper.

Yami Marik is Judge Mariku. Okay? I apologize for any confusion.

Neeeeeow, I had planned to just follow the film as it was because I didn't want to ruin it if I changed it around. AND THEN A WILD TEENIE APPEARED LOL. _s2Teennovelist_ gave me some brilliant ideas for this fic! **THANK YOU DEAR!** Which she wouldn't have thought of if I hadn't placed the characters as I had, so hurray for my character placing, and even more hurray for her amazing brain power. Siriusly, I am still gawking at the plot twists she came up with in what seemed like no time. THE QUEEN LIVES STRONG. I aspire to rise to that pinnacle one day. Yeah…not while I write smutty oneshots lol. FRIG.

OKAY! So, from now this fic will be a little different to the film, to make room for da new plot! SO EXCITED asdfghjkl So gonna take many liberties with this. For those that have seen the movie enjoy the revised plot! For those that have not, enjoy the interesting tale anyway!

Thank you for your support! Makes me squee and spazz and asdgasdhasdf

**I apologize for errors and such. I do not own YuGiOh**

**Chapter 3: Encaged Beauty**

Last time: 

"_No," the pale man spun around, Malik raising a brow at his sudden mobility, "Not Akefia. That man is **dead**."_

_He stepped forward, almost menacingly, it took a great deal for Malik to hold his calm posture, hands on his hips, and keep eye contact with the brown eyes that now seemed to have a simmer in them. The man stared down at him, and spoke as if he dared Malik to challenge his word._

"…_It's Bakura now…and I will have my revenge."_

**XxXxXxXxXxXx**

_Dreary old London._

It lived up to its name indeed, Yugi, the young sailor, thought as he wandered through the streets. His brown bag hung over his shoulder, carrying his small personal belongings, a tattered notebook and flimsy map in his hands.

This was his first trip to London, he was still green to the world. He had heard many things about London, some good, some bad, some terrible. But there was one rumour that was indeed true- the sun had abandoned London. Since his ship set port in the harbour he had not seen the sun, the sky constantly dominated by the rolling grey clouds.

It dampened his usual cheerful mood.

The streets of London weren't _as_ threatening or mundane as the weather, there were many people afoot, of all standards and for many purposes. He greeted a few as he went along, stepping aside respectfully when a woman would pass by, giving her a sweet smile and an accompanying "Good day, ma'am," The women responded positively, giggling as they continued, glancing over their shoulders at the cute sailor boy.

The men were less accommodating, looking at him as if he were a criminal, some looking straight through him as if he wasn't there, and some looking to see if he had anything of value.

But Yugi was an optimistic lad, he did not let it bother him.

The map he bought from a small store did not help very much, he could barely find his current location, much less of where he was heading. At every street corner he would turn on his heel, straining his eyes down every direction, then back to the map in hopes of finding something familiar. It had to have been a few hours now, and he was sure the clouds were threatening rain, he wished to find a proper Inn _before_ that happened.

Eventually, dejected and defeated, he lowered the map with a drained sigh. He stood idly for a few moments, out of place, watching the locals walk by, men in suits, thick rings adorning their fingers, women with children, dressed up modestly, beggars shambling around for shelter and coins.

He turned around slowly, without a goal, and adjusted his bag with his free hand when he set sights on a bench. To rest his legs and mind would be a pleasure, but there was a young woman sitting on the bench. There was plenty of space for him to join, he was a small man, but he did not want to intrude on the lady.

He stood and debated internally, but after deciding he would leave if she asks so, he stepped forward and made his presence known.

"Excuse me, ma'am? May I join you?"

The young woman looked up from her lap, her large blue eyes captivating- they were so much more alive than anything else he had seen in this town so far. She had short brown hair that boxed her face, accenting her sharp features, and a beige lace and silk bonnet over her head, tied just below her chin.

She was beautiful.

She sat on the right side of the bench, dressed in a long white and beige dress with multiple frills layers that covered every inch of her skin besides her hands and face. Yugi assumed she was waiting for someone.

The lady blinked, looked him over, but when seeing his face, she dropped her guard and smiled. "Of course, sir."

"Thank you, ma'am, thank you." Yugi moved over and sat himself on the left side of the bench, and swung his bag over onto the cobblestone ground. He shifted a little, placing his map into the book and into his lap, then looked up cheerfully, "This is a large town."

"Having trouble finding your way?" she teased lightly, interlocking her fingers in her lap.

"Yes," Yugi admitted with a blush. His eyes widened as a thought struck him. "Oh-! I apologize-" he held a hand out gently, "I am Yugi, Yugi Motou."

She accepted his hand, with a blush of her own. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Motou. I am Tea. Tea Gardner."

"It's a pleasure, ma'am. Gloomy day, isn't it?"

"It is, I had rather hoped the sun would grace us today."

"Special occasion?" Yugi guessed, friendly.

A pink blossomed over her cheeks, "Yes, I'm…about to meet with my intended."

"Ah, I see." Yugi giggled, chuckling as Tea looked away with a heavier blush. He looked away to give her a bit of space in the personal matter. His eyes fell forward, to a large mansion across the street, built from thick grey stone and granite. He stopped for a second to stare, having only now realised the imposing building was there. The building was intimidating, surrounded by a tall fence of black painted iron that came up into sharp points, obviously to keep out intruders. Or possibly, as he had heard before, to keep something _in_.

The windows were large and dark, almost as if shadowed, just like everything else in the town. Everything was grey and gloomy.

And then, in a second just as he was about to turn back to miss Tea, his eyes caught on a very pale form.

With a slight double take he watched the form-no, the person in one of the windows, immediately captivated as the blinding white stood out amongst the gloomy scenery. The person stood with their side to the glass as if preoccupied by something in their room.

Most noticeable was the person's following white tresses, thick and wavy down their back. Their skin was white, pale white, as if the sun had never touched it, as white as pearls.

_Yugi was absolutely captivated._

Tea noticed the young man's sudden distraction, and followed his gaze, an expression of understanding dawning over her pretty face.

"That's Ryou."

Yugi broke his trance and looked at his company, feeling almost rude for staring at the stranger in the window, "I'm sorry?"

Tea gestured lightly with her head, "That boy, that's Ryou."

Again, Yugi stared, this time at Tea. He searched her face for any jesting, but received only a small smile. He glanced up at the person in the window, and even though it wasn't like him, he purposely searched for those female attributes.

And he couldn't find them.

"…That is…a man?" he breathed, staring again.

"I wouldn't say _man_, he is sixteen. He's been in there all his life, and whenever he _does_ come out, it's on the arm of Judge Mariku."

"…Judge Mariku? His father?"

"Oh dear, no. The Judge was compassionate enough to take in Ryou when he was but an infant. Ryou is his ward."

This beautiful creature was a male? Yugi wouldn't have guessed if he hadn't taken a harder look. He was fairly positively the pale beauty had on a dress, a white dress that hung snugly to his body. The sleeves were short, baring his small arms, as well as showing much of his neck and collarbones, unlike Tea who was covered head-to-toe. It was noticeable that the beauty's chest was flat, so flat it was either that of a very young girl, or of course, a male.

"Beautiful, isn't he?"

Yugi blushed and ripped his gaze away, giving it back to Tea who chuckled at his expense. She moved her shoulders forward lightly, looking up at Ryou with an expression Yugi couldn't decipher. It was either admiration or jealousy; perhaps a combination?

"He is the envy of all us young ladies, if only he knew how beautiful he was, maybe then he wouldn't be so sad."

Yugi looked back with the new information sinking into his head, and saw that Ryou was indeed sad, a forlorn expression on his soft features, his large eyes small with what could be guessed as depression.

"…Why is he dressed like that?"

"Like a woman?"

"Y-yes. I-I don't mean to discriminate! I just…I've never seen anything like that before."

"Well…no one is certain. Some say he is just different, some say he isn't mentally stable, some even say he is the Judge's bed partner-but _shhh_! You didn't hear it from me!"

He nodded, frowning at the blue-eyed woman. She continued. "Ryou _is_ beautiful, perhaps he feels comfortable this way instead of trousers and a suit. I had a cousin who refused to wear her corset! Strange I tell you, but no one knows for sure. Maybe there _is_ something wrong with him, it would explain why the Judge keeps him locked up so snugly."

"The Judge has kept him, his whole life?" Yugi asked softly, looking up with a broken expression. He looked at Tea for an answer, and she nodded, mumbling on a little more, but he didn't hear her, his attention was stolen by the pale beauty in he window.

**Ryou**…

_What a sweet name…_

Ryou was utterly stunning, Yugi thought, and sat watching the young male at the window, who he now realised was standing by a bird cage. Every so soft Yugi would see a little more of his round face, his breath swept away by the gentle and elegant motions of the boy, his light breathing, his fluttering eyelids, the way he raised his hands, the way he tucked his hair behind his ears.

He was a beauty is this dismal town. And he looked equally as dismal.

"Oh, I have to leave," Tea announced, rising to her feet as a carriage stopped in front of them. Yugi snapped out of his trance and jumped to his feet, clumsily catching the notebook from his lap. He shoved his bangs out of his face and stood respectfully, bowing slightly to the young lady.

"It was a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Lady Gardner."

"As it was mine," she giggled, and gave him a charming smile. The door to the carriage opened and a tall gentleman stepped out, his ebony and emerald suit complimenting his green eyes and black hair. He took Tea by the hand and helped her inside, careful of her flowing dress, and gave Yugi a superior look before smirking and sliding back into the carriage, obviously trying to prove a point that he 'had the girl'.

Yugi didn't care, however, because as soon as the carriage was pulled away by the horses he attention hurried back to Ryou. His heart skipped a beat, and acting on his active male hormones, he inched forward. His notebook and bag lay forgotten as he ghosted across the road, barely taking note of the people around him as he followed the beauty.

_So beautiful_, he had **never** in his life seen such a lovely male. He had the misfortune of being told he himself was _beautiful_, or _cute_, by other sailors, and learnt the hard way that it was in no means a compliment. Men only complimented on beauty when they had mischief on their minds. He had escaped his own awkward situations and worked past them, but he worried for Ryou, how did such a person escape the taunts he was probably pressed with? Perhaps things were different in London and no one cared about it? Or perhaps Ryou was shielded?

No…all that sadness on his face…he was hurting inside.

And of all times that Yugi cared for others, it was stronger now than ever before. He wanted- no- _needed-_ to find out what Ryou's story was.

And then, surprising him, those sad eyes fell on him.

He clasped his hands at his stomach and stepped back a bit, off the payment and into the road, transfixed as he locked gazes with Ryou who looked down from the second floor.

A smile spread over small plump lips, relieving the heavy frown marring the boy's perfect face, allowing a sad, yet hopeful expression to form.

A long breath escaped Yugi as he stared, and mentally slapped himself for acting like a mere sailor. He smiled back as fast as he could, and bowed slightly, never looking away from those chocolate brown doe eyes.

Ryou smiled a little wider, turning to face the window more, allowing Yugi a full view of his face. A small dainty hand pressed against the glass, sliding down slowly, and then, as if the glass had burnt him, Ryou ripped his hand away and spun on his heel. His hair swung around with him, a certain expression smacked onto his features as he fisted his hand against his chest. Yugi was only able to see a second or two's worth of what-_to him_- looked like horror, on Ryou's beautiful face, before the boy dashed off into his room.

Yugi panicked and ran back across the road, straining to see up to the second floor for any signs of danger or a struggle, but he was met with nothing but the indifference of the stone walls. When Ryou did not re-emerge, he stuffed his notebook into his pocket and picked up his bag. He glanced around, hoping someone else had seen Ryou, hoping someone else had seen that look on his face.

The lack of interest angered him somewhat as he made his way back across the road, searching the windows silently. Something had given Ryou a fright, Yugi prayed he was okay. He looked like such a soft person, such a gentle being, how could anything so lovely be locked up and made to look so desolate?

So distracted by searching the windows, the young lad didn't realised he was passing by the front door. A loud click pulled him from his stupor, and he turned his head, finding the large oak door to the mansion had opened, with a man standing in the doorway.

He froze. The man at the door was tall, dark, and openly imposing. His hair was wild, an dull blond, craning over his sharp face. His eyes, half-lidded as if in boredom, bore holes into Yugi's very self esteem like violet rays of energy. He was dressed in fancy tailored clothing, that of black trousers and a golden coat over his inner shirt.

In comparison, Yugi looked horribly lower in standard, his black and brown clothing almost laughing at him. His grip tightened on his bag.

A tan hand raised, its fingers curling back and forth as it beckoned him inside. He hesitated, but seeing the smile the man now had, he baby stepped over. He did not particularly understand the call, but to disobey a man of such statue was not a wise choice.

"Come in, lad, come in," the man encouraged, stepped out of the way. His smile grew wider, but it did not reach his eyes. Yugi obeyed anyway, watching the man silently as he entered the premises. The tall man dropped his smile the second he turned his head, and glanced around shortly before stepping back in and slamming the door shut.

In the mansion, Yugi ogled at all the treasures lining the walls, the paintings, the china vases, and swiftly followed the man. They entered into what looked like a study, filled with books and paper and many other objects that seemed to be of an educational purpose.

"You looked quite lost, if I say so myself." The man drawled as he stood himself in front of a crimson leather chair, then gestured to the opposite seat, "Sit down, boy, sit."

"Thank you, sir." Yugi nodded politely and sat himself down, appreciating the fabric and décor of the room. "I-I can't seem to find my way around, it's my first time in London, you see."

The man nodded, his attention on the exquisite glass bottle on the table. He took it and carefully removed the top, swirling around the alcoholic contents before pouring into two glasses.

"You are a traveller?"

"Yes, sir, I am a sailor."

The man's motions halted slightly, and he looked straight at Yugi. His lips twitched, "A sailor?" he repeated, and slowly handed over a glass of what smelt like whiskey. Yugi nodded, about to air his verbal reply when the man's attention was drawn to the doorway.

On a second's foolish instinct Yugi thought it might be Ryou who had arrived, perhaps he'd seen him enter, but his hope was harshly crushed by the appearance of a heavy built man. Yugi swallowed and looked back at the first man who raised a brow to the new man, but turned his gaze back.

"A sailor must know the ways of the world, am I right?" he asked, as if expecting some form of answer. Yugi barely understood the question.

"…Sir?"

The man brought his own glass to his lips and sipped the liquor, finishing the bit in two gulps, then setting down the empty glass with a cloud clank. Yugi felt the atmosphere change from awkward to dark in a matter of seconds, and gripped his glass tighter.

The blond man turned slightly, tilting his head as if in thought, and stepped lightly, almost mockingly, towards his bookcase. "Must be…_practiced_ in the ways of the world-would you say you were practiced, _boy_?"

The room seemed to become smaller by the second. Yugi glanced over his shoulder to the large man standing there, as if entertained, and looked back at the audible man who was now running his long fingers over the dusty books stacked up randomly in his bookcase.

"Such…_practices_…" he repeated huskily, his voice so much deeper than Yugi's, one belonging to a grown man, caressing the leather bound books as one would a lover. "…The geishas of Japan, the concubines of Siam, the catamites of Greece, the bacha bazi of the Middle East…I have them all here, quite graphic depictions of them, in these books," he randomly pulled forth a book, "Would you like to see?"

Yugi stared awkwardly, highly uncomfortable now as his cheeks grew red at the mention of such people. He hadn't been sailing _that_ long to mix with such people, he did not bother for that sort of company, he was an adventurer, not a lonely drunk. He was highly embarrassed, trying his hardest not to look at the bookcase or act like a virgin girl ripe for the picking.

"I-I think there has been a mistake." He choked out, placing his whiskey back on the table. The man watched the move with hawk-like eyes, and pressed the book away.

An intolerant expression fell upon his face. A _dark_ expression. "…I think _not_."

Yugi leaned away as one of those long fingers pointed his way, and felt his expression faltering against his will.

"You gandered at my ward, Ryou. You _gandered_ at him."

Yugi's expression burst into shock- he did no such thing! He may have stared a little more than was polite, but his thoughts had been nothing but innocent, he would never gander and ogle, it was highly disrespectful!

Obviously his incredulous expression was caught and unfortunately, disbelieved. "Yes, sir, you gandered!" the man exclaimed, successfully sending Yugi back into the chair.

"I meant no harm-!"

"Your _meaning_ is immaterial," the man spat venomously, any pleasantries he had previous displayed now gone. With his expression twitching close to that of enragement, he whipped forward, slamming his hands down on the arm rests of Yugi's chair, his hair waving around his face for emphasis.

"Mark me, _boy_, if I _ever_ see your face again on this street you will rue the day you were born…" he threatened in no more than a hiss, gritting his teeth as he seethed between them. Any closer and their noses would touch.

Yugi sat perplexed, shocked at the sudden hostility used against him. He was a gentle person, he was positive he hadn't done anything to offend this man-! Nothing intentional- he had only admired Ryou, how could the man invite him inside, only to pull a fight for that?

As if disgusted, said man pulled away and gave the man at the door a signal with his finger, and before Yugi knew it, he was ripped from his chair and being manhandled like a mere rag doll.

His trip _out_ of the mansion was a lot faster than it had been getting _in_. The large man shoved him callously through the corridors and practically kicked him out of the back door. He hit the ground with a sickening thud, the collision breaking the skin on his lip and knocking a tooth with enough force to create a small stream of blood. He coughed and winced at the pain, then cried out as a huge boot-clad foot connected with his side, sending him across the pavement.

"You heard what Judge Mariku said,_ little man_. Next time, it'll be your pretty little brains, all over the pavement…"

Satisfaction and amusement was clear in the brute's tone and voice, it sickened Yugi. He did catch the name 'Judge Mariku' however, and found anger bubbling in his chest. He clutched at his sides, curling up to protect his vital areas from any more attacks.

Thudding of footsteps were heard, and Yugi exhaled in relief. He opened his eyes and found himself alone in a back alley. The fresh pain stung at him annoyingly, forcing him to wince weakly. He pushed onto his hands and knees, spitting out some blood, when suddenly a heavy weight was thrown against him, sending him back pathetically into the stone ground.

The following loud bang told him that the door had closed this time, and when he cracked his eyes open he found his bag rolling off his back.

This was terribly humiliating, and completely uncalled for. What kind of man treated others so harshly, for no good reason? Other than obvious obsession. He had only admired Ryou from a distance, he shuddered to think about what would happen if he had to have even speak to the boy.

No wonder Ryou never came out…he was a prisoner, encaged by this Judge Mariku who was clearly possessive and violent. But that was…it was wrong! Ryou was just a boy, a young, innocent (he guessed) boy, while this judge was surely past his thirties! What did he want with such a young man? Hadn't the man a wife? A consort of some sort?

Panic struck Yugi heavily as he looked up breathlessly at the back of the mansion, desperate to see that white form. Just what was happening to the boy? If no one knew exactly what was going on behind these closed doors, anything could be happening! And with the lascivious topics the judge brought up, Yugi's fears were heightened.

"_Well…no one is certain. Some say he is just different, some say he isn't mentally stable, some even say he is the Judge's bed partner-but shhh! You didn't hear it from me!"_

A bed partner.

Was _that_ what Ryou was? He had looked so wretched and frightened- that could not be for nothing, there must be a reason to cause that. Something was going on, and Yugi blamed the judge. He sorely hoped it was NOT what he was thinking.

_Judge_… this man was supposed to be the law, and yet he performed such appalling acts.

_Disgusting._

How did Ryou manage? How…how did he…even live like this? Locked up like an object?

No…maybe he was jumping to conclusions? Maybe he was looking too much into this. Ryou could be fine, maybe it was just an extra gloomy day, and his cat had knocked over a vase and frightened him! Yes…maybe that was what had happened…

It was all so very suspicious though…the judge had him beat for just _looking_ at his 'ward', was that being protective, or possessive? For goodness sakes he was a small guy, what harm could he do? He had no lewd thoughts for the boy anyway, he was just charmed by his beauty, that was all!

But the worry was still there…he would have to look into it, or he would never have peace of mind.

Who was this sad Ryou?

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx**

Sfdasfdasfd third chapter is done! HURRAY! I'm sorry for the no Bakura, but we met Judge Mariku, and his ward, Ryou. Who is like, all effeminate and beautiful and GAH.

Okies, soooo, Heartshipping. It's not one of my preferred shippings, two ukes together is like…boring as watching paint dry. Meh. So there won't be hot Heartshipping make outs and stuff. Yugi is enchanted by Ryou's beauty, but he is a gentleman so he isn't thinking MMH LOOK AT DAT ASS. No, he's worried about Ryou, first and foremost, especially after his encounter with the possessive Judge.

Ryou is Bakura's son. Taken in by Judge Mariku after Bakura's exile from London. Ryou is about 16 yrs, Yugi is about 18. Also, just to make it clear, I see Ryou as more of a seme to Yugi, Yugi is like a super uke, but for the context of this story Yugi is the one wearing the pants, literally LOL.

Judge Mariku is selfish, possessive, greedy, and lustful of Ryou. Who wouldn't be?

Ah, Lady Tea. So I realised bashing her is immature and chose not to, I did it in my fandom youth, but it's silly, really. Meh, I'm over it. In the film the sailor finds out about the judge and his ward from a beggar woman, but in here I chose to slot in Tea because of some plot changes. She will not pop up again, and just for fun, any guesses as to who the man was in the carriage? Pretty obvious.

When Mariku tells you do to something, you do it lol. Mariku IS the law, he fears nothing and can do what he wants, provided the public do not directly witness it, he has to keep up appearances of course. He had Ryou brought up as a china doll- but we will learn about that next chapter.

Next chapter we will meet Kaiba and Joey, you may guess who they will be if you like, and there will be some Ryou and Mariku time where we see the world from their points of view and see how their relationship is, see if Mariku is really molesting poor little Ryou. I mean, Mariku is a grown ass man, he was a man when Ryou was born, so…he's even more a grown man now that Ryou is 16. Why am I such a perv for that stuff?

Okay! I do hope that was good! I honestly don't know what to think of this chapter, it's hard to concentrate, so any advice, questions and comments would make all the difference, even a smiley face if you can afford it ^^


	4. Pet

I'm back! WHOOO! *is ignored. K FINE. No one loves me… *sits in corner*

Loki doki, chapter four of this fic. This whole chapter is Ryou and Mariku orientated. No Bakura and unfortunately no Kaiba and Joey. I was desperate to get out an update and this was all I could write for today, but I think after reading it you'll agree it was left at a proper place. Anyway this chapter will show the one-sided Deathshipping and we'll get an idea of what is in their heads.

Again, BIG thanks to _Teenie_ for her glorious brain power on this fic, if it weren't for her, the chapter would have come out exactly the way it does in the movie. And the rest of it. I hope this chapter will be interesting, I really had fun writing it! Both Ryou and Mariku were extremely interesting to write, they practically wrote themselves while I sat back and just added titbits. LE GASP THE VOICES IN MY HEAD ARE NOW TYPING MY WORK.

_**I do not own YuGiOh. I apologize for my errors.**_

**Chapter 4: Pet**

_Ryou… _such an elegant, beautiful creature. So like his mother…

Not even snow could compare to his beauty. His tender skin soft and pale, a product of daily pampering with lotions and oils, his hair a thick blanket over his round face. His plush lips rosy, and divine.

Or so Judge Mariku suspected.

No one could deny that he had an angel in his care, he made sure the entire city knew of his ward, and yet, he kept their indoor life a secret. Everyone knew Judge Mariku had most graciously took in the babe sixteen years ago and brought him up with the finest standards, even though they were not related. The actions had the community praising the Judge for his generous ways, and yet… no one **dared** ask _why_.

No, no one would dare ask _why_ he had taken in a child from the working-class, no one would dare ask _why_ he spoilt and pampered the child as if it was his own, no one would **dare** ask why he brought the young male to functions and balls dressed as a dame, no one would dare ask why the boy painted and sewed instead of studying for a profession like medicine or law.

No one would dare, not if they wanted to keep their life peaceful and untargeted.

In Mariku's opinion there was no one more beautiful in the town than Ryou was. There were dozens upon dozens of women and yet none held his interest. The only woman he had ever admitted was beautiful was his elder sister Ishizu. But now as Ryou had blossomed into a young adult, his beauty surpassed Ishizu's easily.

There was only one person whose beauty passed Ryou's…and that was the boy's birth mother…

_Crimson eyes…creamy skin… petite form… colourful hair…_

It was a tad mind-boggling when one thought of it. Ryou had inherited little from his mother besides his angelic form and a small tint of red in those wide mahogany eyes. The rest he had gotten from his…_father_. The fair tone of his skin and hair, the brown of his eyes, they were from the father, but Ryou wore it with a cherub appearance, with the beauty of his mother.

In the boy's youth Mariku often shunned him, seeing him as a replica of the father. Physically, for the most part, otherwise he was as much an angel as he grew to be.

But there was _one_ thing about him that made Mariku's heart beat a little faster than usual… he often showed his mother's fiery nature, being headstrong and very capable of being temperamental, even to Mariku himself. Mariku often humoured it, watching that round face flush in anger, but he never allowed the boy to speak back to him in public. And Ryou knew better than to even think it.

Mariku had been content with his ward, but it had now come time for him to decide the boy's future, and he had a heavenly idea for the both of them.

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx**

The darn cloudy sky, Ryou hated it. He longed for the sun, he longed to feel its comforting warmth on his dead skin.

…Yes, _dead skin_. That's what he thought of himself whenever he peeked into a mirror. He had skin that of a corpse, white as death, he didn't think it was particularly beautiful, regardless of how many women and men told him so. He did not want dark skin either, he would then resemble Sir Mariku, he was afraid the man would like that even more than his pale skin.

A soft sigh escaped as he turned away from the sky and towards the birdcage, and gave his attention to the little lark hopping around the bars cheerfully, without a care in the world.

How did he do it? How was he so happy when he was locked in a cage? Ryou could not fathom it, not at all. Freedom was a luxury, a luxury not even he could afford even if he sold all the jewels Mariku showered him with.

Ryou knew he would be called selfish if he spoke his true mind, after all, he was living a life of luxury compared to the working and middle-class people that walked the streets outside his window, he had a lavish life. If he were to complain about anything it would lead to his disgrace, he was expected to be grateful and gracious and appreciate everything he had.

And he did, but he did not have the one thing even his maids had- freedom. They worked there time, and once it was over they were free to leave and go where they wished, be with their loved ones, visit the parks and socialize with neighbours. All the young men he saw marching about during the day were free to choose their own paths, whether it be higher education, military, handy-work like carpentry, or even perfume makers.

But not him. No, he was never given the _choice_, and when he eventually asked for it, it was as if he blasphemed the Lord himself.

_He was to listen to Sir Mariku, for **he** knew what was best._

_He was to obey Sir Mariku, for he **owed** him his life._

_He was to act as Sir Mariku expect, for he was **his** ward._

…_He was to be more beautiful than all the maidens in town an learn to be a proper and courteous lady for he was in the public eye and of high standard._

How ridiculous. Last time he checked he was male, no matter how small he was. Once he began puberty Mariku had the maids shave him and keep him as hairless as a baby, soaking him daily in oils to keep him as soft as a baby. By now he was used to it, and he hadn't minded much when he was younger, but now that he was maturing he knew the difference between a man and a woman, and he _knew_ people thought ill of him for being dressed the way he was. He saw the way people looked at him at balls, wondering _why_.

His wardrobe was filled with the finest French and Victorian dresses money could buy, the finest slippers and accessories to accompany them. Deep down he wasn't _uncomfortable_ with how he was dressed, it was natural now, he was assured that he was not the only male like it, but it was how he was treated, like he was a porcelain doll, Sir Mariku's porcelain doll that everyone ogled at.

Though the man had given him everything he needed and wanted in his lifetime, there was that subtle hint of obligation attached.

_Here is a new lace and velvet dress Ryou, it highlights your eyes and it's bought from Italy, it's all yours. And you will to wear it to the Mayor's memorial… _

_Enjoy your new easel my dear Ryou, it has come with all the colours your little brain could imagine, I'm certain you will create a masterpiece…_

_Spend some time with my sister and her baby Ryou, they do miss you. And you will learn a few tricks, it will come in handy when you are older…_

The expectations crushed Ryou's spirit. He wanted to be normal, he wanted to be let go… he wanted most what he couldn't have. So what was there left to do… What was that saying…_when life gave you lemons, make lemonade_?

Was that what his bird did? Did he force himself to be happy and eventual believe his own lie? Was that his secret? Ryou would much more prefer to learn about that than how to burp a baby.

Hopping from perch to perch, the little lark chirped every few minutes, as if just to fill the heavy silence before it drove them mad in the dark bedroom. Ryou acknowledged his effort, and smiled sadly at him. He parted his rosy lips and inhaled softly, breathing out in a soft melody.

"…Greenfinch and Linnet bird, Nightingale, Blackbird, how is it you sing? How can you jubilate, sitting in cages, never taking wing…" He never sung, not for anyone but his lark. Sir Mariku knew he could sing like a canary, but strangely it was the one talent he possessed that the Judge did NOT flaunt to his colleagues and neighbours, he once told Ryou "You attract too many ears and eyes with your sweet voice, rather we keep it between the two of us."

Ryou took no pleasure in singing for him, and thankfully Sir Mariku took the hint and eventually stopped asking.

He turned his doe eyes towards he window, out towards the gloomy sky. "Outside the sky waits, beckoning, beckoning, _just_ beyond the bars… How can you remain staring at the rain, maddened by the stars? How is it you sing… anything? _How_ is it you sing?"

_How_…Ryou would love to know. How did the lark chirp and hop and pretend all was well when he was locked in a small space, and expected to be a good pet while admired from far.

…That's what he was. Ryou was a pet. He was dressed up all fancy and locked away, withheld from the world, but allowed just close enough for him to get a glimpse- before it was taken away and he was back inside his cage, the Ishtar Manor.

"My cage has many rooms, damask and dark, nothing that sings, not even my lark… Larks never will you know when they're captive, teach me to be more adaptive…"

Yes, he had to adapt…just like his lark. But how did he do it? How could he be what Mariku wanted him to be? How could he find happiness in his cage? How could he learn to be a good pet and let Mariku dictate his life…

If he could not be free, he would have to make peace with what he had…

…Like his lark…

"Greenfinch and Linnet bird, Nightingale, Blackbird, teach me how to sing, if I cannot fly… _Let…me…sing…_"

It wasn't long after Ryou ended his song was there knocking at the door. He jumped slightly and straightened up as if he were a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He _felt_ like one, singing about such things that would irk the Judge.

Four seconds after the knocking the doorknob turned and the door opened with a minute squeak. Ryou half wished it were the maids even if they were to dunk him in a foamy bath. Judge Mariku stepped into the room, his shiny leather shoes clicking royally on the wooden floor, accenting his graceful arrival. Ryou inwardly rolled his eyes for his wishful thinking. The heavy knocking on the door was that of large knuckles, not of a woman's, or even his own.

Judge Mariku was dressed as he always was, clad in his formal attire in dreary colours and layers that provoked Ryou to empty his paint collection on him or throw him at a rainbow.

Ryou smacked his lips shut and clasped his hands behind his back, glancing at the flat box in Mariku's left arm. The door closed and Mariku stepped in, smiling handsomely.

"Your package arrived, I had Ushio fetch it from the post office as soon as it arrived." His announcement was full of pride. And expectations.

Ryou forced aside his irritable and confounded thoughts and forced a smile. "Thank you, Sir, I was wondering if it would ever come."

"Yes, well we know how lazy those Italian office workers are," Mariku drawled as he stepped over and placed the box carefully on the bed, running his fingers along the cardboard, "I cannot say the same for their tailors though, they are some of the finest in the world."

A white haired-head bobbed, "Yes, indeed, Sir."

Clouded violet eyes locked onto the young chocolate, breaking away to travel down the connected form. "You should try it on, if it doesn't ft we can have our tailors adjust it before my sister's party."

Reluctant eyes found the box, dainty hands unclasping in defeat. "Yes, Sir."

Mariku stepped back in approval and watched in content as Ryou walked over, the lace on his current dress sweeping behind him elegantly. The young teen reached out and opened the box neatly, the way he was taught to, and slowly pulled out the exquisite white material. It looked almost like a wedding dress, except it lacked the thick following layers, this dress was flat and long. Little excitement bubbled, much unlike it used to, but for appearance's sake he smiled widely and swung it Mariku's way, draping the dress against his chest, "It's dazzling, Milord,"

As expected, Mariku's face lit up. "I am pleased it is to your liking. It is of outstanding statue, fit for the best."

It was supposed to be a compliment. Ryou took it, without choice. "Thank you, Sir. I love it."

The Judge nodded curtly, but when no other movements were made he pulled a teasing yet obvious warning, "Are you not going to try it on?"

Ryou grit his teeth discreetly and blinked away his emotions. He scooped the dress up into his arms, careful of the beads and sequence, and hurried behind the changing screen to free himself those peering eyes that made him feel naked.

Mariku chuckled to himself at the shyness of his ward and shook his head. "You insist on being shy Ryou, remember I've seen you bare many times."

Ryou fumed as silently as possible, his cheeks flaming terribly as he removed the dress he had on with shaky fingers. "I-I was a child then, it isn't the same."

"True," Mariku grinned, "But as you love to point out, we are both male."

"S-still…it's improper," he breathed softly with little care for if he was heard or not. Yes, they were both male, but a very different type, Mariku knew that. In fact, _he_ had been the one to make it so. Ryou was nothing like Mariku, the man was thick built and large, full of masculinity and hair and rough skin, whereas Ryou was petite, his bone structure small and his features still soft, as was his hairless skin. He had a body that of a female, and he knew he was eyed for it, and it made him uncomfortable.

"Good, I can trust you to say the same if it were another man in my place."

Ryou froze, having just dropped his dress down his knees, his upper body bare, his lower body covered by his underwear and beige leggings.

"Of course," he said as if offended. How could Mariku say that? Why did he keep saying things like that? Ryou had no interest in men, he had no interest in women either, he was still trying to learn who _he_ was. "I've no interest in such affairs." He added snootily.

Mariku's brows raised in amusement. "None at all?"

Ryou dumped the dress over his head and ripped it down his form irritably, "No, Sir."

"In two years time you'll be an adult in the eye of the law, you'll be expected to make some _decisions_."

The fabric clung to him like a second skin, like a _suffocating_ second skin… "…What decisions?"

Mariku stared at the changing screen, eager for the beauty to reappear. "…Mature decisions. But do not fret, I will be here to guide you."

That was NOT reassuring. Ryou blinked away the peeking of a few tears and fixed his dress, looking down at himself. He had to admit, it was a gorgeous dress, white silk adorned with pearl-like sequence. He ran his hands down his stomach and took a deep breath before stepping out from the changing screen, and presenting himself to the judge.

Immediately narrow eyes widened, and darted all over the angel-in-flesh. He stood out in complete contrast again the grey of the room. He was an angel incarnate.

"…Perfection, you are perfection Ryou," Mariku breathed as he stepped forward and boldly took Ryou's hands in his. He felt the smaller twitch in his grasp, and looked down directly, forcing eye contact, "You never disappoint me."

Authentic blush sprung on Ryou's face, his face and hands burned at the assault the man forced upon him. He smiled as best he could, his expression wavering. It was becoming harder for Ryou to ignore the proximity each time Mariku took hold of him. Whenever he did, it felt extremely intimate, those large tanned hands slipping around his waist, caressing his cheek, pressing into his lower back, pulling at his hands… too intimate, and worse, meaningful.

"Th-thank you, Milord," he stammered and turned his face away, unable to handle the growing butterflies in his belly.

Slightly unsatisfied, Mariku pulled away and looked over Ryou again, smiling wirily, "…The dress is perfect. Take it off until the party, I want it crisp and clean that night."

"Of course, I shall," Ryou assured a little too quickly than he should have.

They shared a pregnant stare, but Mariku gave in and retreated. "I will see you at dinner?"

"Yes,"

With another nod Mariku left, closing the door behind him. Ryou expelled a large sigh and relaxed his stance, hanging his head. He pulled at the dress gently, watching it fall into place again like _it_ was made to fit **his** body exactly.

Dejected and still conflicted, he turned and padded, barefoot, over to his lark once more, and looked out at the sky.

Mariku was expecting him to be someone… but _who_? And why _him_…

He looked beyond the glass as if he would find the answer. All he saw was the grey of the city. Disenchanted by the lack of life, he dropped his gaze, ready to turn and remove the fancy attire when he spotted a person he had never seen before.

A young male with striking tri-coloured hair. Ryou had never seen a person like that, he must be a traveller of sorts. Yes, he looked the part, Ryou had never seen him before.

And he was looking up at him in the strangest way.

But even stranger- it did not make him feel uncomfortable.

He blushed, finding the look the young man sending at him… sweet. It was full of admiration and wonder, not suspicion and lust. The difference was all too clear, and it was flattering. Maybe there was still hope for a good man, besides himself. All the men he did know may act civilly, but they were conniving beasts behind their suits and laws.

He smiled wider at the small startle that came over the young man who quickly bowed, and blushed further. He turned and placed his hand on the window, silently acknowledging the stranger. He was a polite and friendly person, provided the receiver was as well.

"What are you smiling at?"

Ripping his hand away from the glass, Ryou swung around to find Mariku at the door, glaring heavily at him. He squeaked and pulled away from the window, making haste towards the bed. "I-I was about to change," he stammered, and began to pull up his dress.

If Mariku knew he had smiled at a strange young man outside his window, it would spell trouble and a dozen lectures.

Mariku's eyes widened at the glimpse of the slim legging-covered legs, and swallowed. As much as he wanted to see Ryou bare, he could not frighten the boy with vulgar attempts before the time was right. He had much planned for them, he had to keep control.

"Good, I came to tell you to make preparations; Minister Pegasus will be by later to speak with you." He concluded and slipped back out the door, allowing himself another glimpse, this time catching sight of the thin hips and pert buttocks as the child struggled to remove the gown.

Reluctantly he exited and shut the door. He ground his teeth and pushed away, striding down the corridor and pounding down the staircase onto the ground floor.

"Milord-" Mariku turned, finding Beadle Ushio approaching, "There is something you must see." The man murmured darkly, gesturing to one of the windows as he held the red velvet curtain open.

Mildly interested, Mariku headed over and was directed to a young man loitering outside, staring up at the windows frantically.

"…It seems a goose has come to gander at your bird, Milord."

Mariku's expression darkened, and he marched towards the door.

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx**

YAY IT'S DONE! Okay, so, how was that? I would LOVE to hear your thoughts on Ryou and Mariku, their relationship and situation is something I've never written before, and I am LOVING it!

Okay, so definitely Bakura next chapter! I miss him. And Malik! The loony who touches roaches and makes pies with the same dirty hands. Ew.

I think I have a fetish for putting Ryou in a dress, I did it in Unnatural Bond as well…Eh, it suits him. Meh.

I love Mariku, he's trying to do it the right way…lol…well, he THINKS he is doing the right things. Ah, fun fun fun!

Thank you for reading, comments? Questions? ^_^

~Candy


	5. A Week's Promise

**A/N** I'm sorry for taking so long to update, it's a horrible combination of work, writing my real novel, reading the fics in my inbox and bookmarks, my Avengers obsession, playing with my drawing tablet that was graciously given to me by Nekoyasha12 (AHMAGERD THEEN KU AGAIN) and anime yaoi…Sowi.

I hope you guys are still with me…

_Warnings:… Horny Malik?_

**I do not own YuGiOh.**

**Chapter 5: A Week's Promise**

A trip to the market had generally been a displeasure to Malik. The filthy streets, the stinking gutters, the homeless people, and of course the rude people, served only to bother him. For a very long time Malik had begun to keep to himself, stay out of eye's sight. It was a lonely life, but it allowed for much peace, save for the random trouble that found him, or followed him home. He knew he was beautiful, but his days of flaunting and bed-hopping were over, the thrill of it had disappeared long ago.

But today, on a usual dank and gloomy London-day, Malik positively sashayed down the busy streets, equipped with his zombie-like companion. The tanned male had on tight-fitting black pants that were heavily frayed at the bottom creating a rather pretty effect, his shirt a size too big, tucked into the hem of his pants, bulking over fashionably. It hung off one shoulder, boasting to the strangers his smooth skin.

His nose and chin were aimed high in the air to flaunt his confidence. He felt smug. He felt giddy. He felt upper-class.

_He had Bakura._

Malik near floated down the streets in his silent zeal as he hung on the arm of Bakura, squeezing the man's biceps discreetly, running his fingers over the hairy skin, savouring his aroma, looking into that beautiful yet blank face. It bothered him little that Bakura trudged along like a bored child—in fact, it highly pleased him that not even young girls in their frilly expenses dresses and with their long tresses could gain even a breath in their direction from Bakura.

The odd pair made their way into St. Dunstan's Market like everyone else. The streets were filled with both the rich and poor, men of all class doing their business, coins passing from hand to hand, shoes clapping against the grimy roads, shoulders bumping. This part of London was not known for its cleanliness or positive reputation, but Malik had a specific reason for bringing Bakura here.

Bakura agreed to accompany him to the market after Malik complained heartily about the 'disgusting perverts' that waited to prey on him and his beauty, and with little questions allowed the pretty young man to drag him out into the world he hated. There was little to do in Malik's home other than plot his revenge and listen to Malik blabber on about shit he cared not for, perhaps a walk outside would be useful, he could see what had changed in his time missing. Maybe he would even see _him_…

_The thought thrilled him._

Thankfully, Malik was silent as they walked along, he was able to secretly take note of his surroundings. Not much had changed as it turned out, all that did was the people. He recognised very few, they had aged tremendously, but they did not recognise him. No one did, no one looked at him, besides the admiring stares from young women that reminded him of Malik. What was there to like about him? He knew very well what he looked like, his body language was far from friendly or inviting, and yet the women and Malik still flustered over him.

_Bloody annoying._

Eventually he found they had stopped moving, and took note of a small wooden platform that held what looked like a small room, the door covered by a large red velvet curtain. On either side of the door where large pieces of paper stuck on the walls, the words "Seto Kaiba's Miracle Elixir" painted on it in a rather eye-catching blue and white décor.

Having done what he came out for, and idly remembering Malik's 'perverts', he looked around apathetically and pulled the warm body closer, ignoring the perverse shiver that flowed through it. "Just what are we doing here?"

"We're here to see this Kaiba. He's here every weekend to show off his barbering skills. I thought this would be a good place to help you regain some _mojo_, so to speak." Malik spoke as calmly as he could, looking away as Bakura stared into his face. He didn't think he could handle it if he looked into Bakura's eyes right now, his knees might buckle. And as sad as it was to think, he didn't think the man would catch him.

"What do you want me to do? Prove that I am better than he is?"

"Wouldn't it help? He's always bragging about his products, I thought if anyone could show him the boot it would be you."

"What makes you think I care about this?" Bakura grunted irritably, and Malik finally looked at him, and shrunk at the heated glare aiming his way. Yes, he certainly preferred Bakura looking blank.

Before Malik could apologize and attempt to list a number of things to make up with, the glare disappeared and the face morphed into a wide-eyed gawk that went right passed him. Whatever could provoke such a powerful response from Bakura had to be important, a strong array of emotions flittering across the usually stoic face. Malik hurriedly followed his gaze, both eager and afraid to find the source of the change.

It took but a few seconds to see what had caught Bakura's attention, and quickly Malik looked away, hoping to blend in and become invisible. It was Beadle Ushio, the judge's worst right hand man. Of course, Malik knew why Bakura reacted so strongly to the man, he had been there all those years ago when Bakura had been exiled, he knew the roles Ushio had played out for the bastard judge. Ushio was a large and intimidating man, Malik kept out of his way especially…

The world had stopped for Bakura, time itself had stopped in between the seconds and all he could comprehend was the appearance of a man that aided his destruction. That man, he remembered him. _Oh did he._ Bakura refused to forget him, _Ushio_. One was to forgive and forget, wasn't it often said? He made it a point _not_ to forget, so that he would **never** forgive.

Ushio was on his list as well, right before the judge, save the best for last, no?

Unable to help himself, Bakura reached for the blades hanging in small leather pockets attached to his belt around his waist. His fingers tingled and burned, they almost shook, but he forced them to be still, shaking showed weakness. **He would not shake again.**

Seeing what Bakura was about to do, Malik grabbed onto him as he began in the Beadle's direction. "Hang on, love," his voice shook, "Not now…we're in public." Malik could almost taste the longing Bakura was emitting, there was no doubt that he would be murdering the Beadle as soon as possible. It created a small nervous lump in Malik's chest, he hadn't been around such excitement for a very long time, and honestly it frightened him to see the amount of bloodlust inside the man. He did not care about Ushio, in fact it would please him to let Bakura kill him, but they were in public, they were not immune from the law, especially not with the man who was running their town…

Bakura's face twitched from helpless longing to a mixture of brooding and his usual blank stare. Yes, they _were_ in public, he had to remember that. He did not give a damn about the law, whether it was the court's or God's, but if he slit Ushio's throat and bathed in his blood in the middle of the market he would be locked up and sentenced to death before he could do the same to the judge…

_No, he had to be careful…he had do this right…fate had brought him back here after all those years for a reason…_

…_He had waited fifteen years…he could wait a few more days._

With deep regret, Bakura stepped back into place, barely hearing Malik whisper praises at him. He caressed the shiny blades obsessively in a way to calm himself down as he stared maliciously at the Beadle that was strutting around without a care in the world. Oh how he could not wait to slice open that dirty flesh…

To secure his control he released his beloved blades and clasped his hands before him, and lowered his gaze so that he wouldn't catch attention with his stare. Malik sighed deeply for the both of them and petted his arm comfortingly; he had to be there for Bakura.

Soon their morbid attention was captured by the sound of a drum. Up on the stage was now a young boy, hitting the rounded tip of a stick against a small drum. Bakura guessed the boy to be no older than fourteen. He was gangly, thin, and had a large dirty hat of atop his head. His clothes looked like they were fashioned from rags, his knees dirty, his feet bare, but who was Bakura to care?

Malik, on the other hand, frowned as he did every time he saw this poor young man.

The young boy continued to hit the drum as he paced up and down the stage, signally everyone that today's event was about to begin. He wore a face of concentration, keeping the drum in beat. Once everyone had gathered around the stage, the blond put down the drum and hurried back to his captured audience, a fake smile spreading over his face, making Malik's soft heart ache.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please?" he called out in a sing-song voice, "Do ya wake every morning in shame and despair to discover ya pillow is covered with hair?" The audience gave mixed reactions, some interested, some ashamed. Bakura raised a brow, but listened on.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen, from now on you can awake at ease. Ya need never again have to worry or care, I will show ya a miracle marvellous rare." The boy leaned forward towards the people standing against the stage, and seemed to whisper to them. "Gentlemen, you are about to see something that rose from the _dead_-!" he dragged out the last word, gaining everyone's acute interest just before grabbing his hat and ripping it off to reveal a mop of unruly bright blond hair, "on the top of my head!"

The crowd laughed at the silly joke, and seemed even more interested now. Bakura watched along distastefully, and wondered which was worse, the boy's performance, or Malik's pies.

The blond lad tossed his hat aside and scooped up what looked like a perfume bottle, and cradled it carefully in his filthy peasant hands. He held it out to the crowd and continued in his rhyming as he attempted to sell the hair product. "'Twas Mr. Kaiba's Miracle Elixir, that's what did the trick, Sir!" The boy began to hand out bottles to a few people, coaxing them into examining it, "Only costs a penny, guaranteed!"

The few bottles passed around the crowd as everyone had a chance to look or fiddle with it, dabbing samples on their palms. A bottle soon appeared besides Malik and Bakura, extracting no positive reaction from them. Remembering why Malik had dragged him here in the first place, and because he didn't have one good bone left in him, Bakura leaned his glance over Malik to the stranger who was inspecting a bottle, and pulled his nose as if smelling something sour.

"Pardon me, sir, what's that awful stench?" He asked loudly.

Malik concealed a smirk and skilfully turned it into face innocence as he tightened his grip on Bakura, his giddiness bubbling. "Are we standing near an open trench?" he added teasingly.

Up on stage the boy glanced at them with wide eyes, the surrounding people sending around slightly furrowed expressions. The blond pinched his lips and hurried back up to the front of the stage with a trusty bottle in his hands, "Buy Mr. Kaiba's Miracle Elixir, when they see how thick sir, you can have your pick sir, of the girls!"

Rolling his eyes at the mention of 'girls' Malik handed the bottle from the stranger to Bakura who took it with a look of repugnance etched onto his pasty face. He rolled the bottle around in his hand with exaggerated movements, purposely gaining attention, "What is this?" he asked in distaste, holding up the bottle to Malik who shrugged. "Smells like piss," Bakura drawled as he hovered the bottle under Malik's nose.

"Smells like-_eugh_!" Malik flinched away, glaring lightly at Bakura who smirked and shoved the cork back into the bottle, "This is piss, piss with ink," he drawled as he shoved the bottle back where it came from.

The boy on stage gritted his teeth at the white-haired man's open sabotage, Lord knows he was only trying to sell his master's stupid product and earn his food for the night. The crowd was beginning to stir and pay more attention to the man instead of him. He rose his voice as he spoke again, determined to win. "Let Kaiba's Elixir activate your roots, sirs-!"

"Keep it off your boots sir, eats right through." Bakura advised to the receiving man in a manner that no one knew if it was serious or a joke.

"Yes, get a bottle of it! Ladies seem to love it!"

"Flies do too," Malik added spitefully, glowing at the smirk Bakura gave to him.

The boy on stage glared down at his audience, still holding up a bottle when the curtain to the little room on stage flapped open and a tall figure strode out. Without a second hesitant the blond darted out of the way and allowed the man his way onto the centre of the stage.

The new person was tall and his walk full of swaggered grace, his cape white, his clothes lush blue velvet that hung to his broad frame. His face was sharp, his eyes a cold and unforgiving cerulean, complete with perfectly styled chestnut hair. The only thing stopping Malik from biting his lip was Bakura.

Silence echoed ominously as the man stopped and glared down at the audience, making each person feel personally victimized. The little blond stood a few steps away, his own glare gone in favour of watching the brown-haired man with large eyes, fidgeting distractedly with the bottle in his hands.

Eventually the man spoke, and spoke as if he were someone important. It did not matter to Bakura though, humans were all the same, they all had the same blood regardless of society status.

"I am the famous Seto Kaiba, king of the barbers! And as you all know, the barber of kings. And I'd _very_ much like to know who has the nerve to say that my Elixir is _piss_… who said that?" he snarled bitterly. Bakura thought that was a rather foolish way to act in front of potential customers, no matter how _famous_. Not that he had heard of this man before…

Surprisingly the crowd was silent, Bakura half-expected to be ratted out. When the sound of everyone's breathing got to him, he parted his lips with an audible pop, staring at Malik's chest, and confessed aloud. "I did."

The crowd turned his way comically and he looked up, without fear. He had no more fear to give. He pulled his arm free from Malik and pushed passed him, his burgundy eye strained on the elevated man. "And I am Mr. Bakura, from Fleet Street. I have examined a bottle of your Elixir, and I say to you, that it is nothing but an errant fraud," his voice grew lower and darker with every word, "concocted from _piss_ and _ink_."

If glares could kill a man already dead Bakura would have been in the ground, Kaiba's eyes glazing fiercely down at him. Bakura could feel the refusal to show guilt, but Kaiba masked it deftly, the rest of the audience saw no sham.

Standing amongst the captivated crowd, Malik was certain he'd have an orgasm then and there. With each passing moment he grew more attracted to Bakura, more so than he had been fifteen years ago. This man seemed to fear no one, he cared about no one's opinion and knowing what Bakura was capable of, it completely thrilled Malik to see Bakura standing up to the pompous barber as if it he was speaking to an imbecile. Malik had to check his crotch, he didn't want to gain the attention of the few mothers present, they wouldn't be impressed with his hard on.

Taking a strange pleasure in ridiculing this Kaiba, Bakura continued, "Further more, your majesty, I wager that I can shave a cheek with ten times more dexterity than any street mountebank." Bored with the array of negative emotions emptying over Kaiba's face, Bakura whipped out from the leather pouches around his waist two of his sliver barber-blades.

"You see these blades?" He said to the crowd as he held them up with an almost undetectable show of affection, "I lay them against five pound…you are no match sir."

Malik had to pull down his shirt.

Slightly intrigued, Kaiba leaned over and eyed the shining silver that was put against the sum of money, and silently admired its beauty. It took only a few seconds before a shocking revelation hit him, and with new ideas sparking in his monopolizing mind, he pulled away, masking his surprise with a callous laugh, "Haha! You hear this foolish man? Fine, I accept your wager, then we shall see just who is the sham."

Bakura kept a most blank look on his face, lowering his blades as he watched Kaiba throw off his cloak. He felt someone brush up against his side, and from the corner of his eyes he saw it was Malik, and this time lowered his _open_ blades once more.

"Joey!" Kaiba barked irritably, and the young blond from before came scrambling back to see to his master's wishes. As 'Joey' helped to set up the stage for the wager, Bakura turned on his heel and gave an almost interested smirk, "Who wants a free shave?"

Multiple hands were thrown up, and as tempting as it was, Malik didn't join; he was already hairless, he had to keep himself pretty. The crowd gathered in a new excitement as the opponents got ready for their contest. Two chairs were laid out for the customers, facing away from one another. After handing his jacket to an eager Malik, Bakura trudged up on stage, ignoring the fleeting stare from Kaiba and rolled his blades in his hand.

Just as he made it onto the stage, he looked up, his eyes as dead as ever, but they locked perfectly on their target, "…Will Beadle Ushio be our judge?"

The crowd swayed to look at the intimidating man. Said man cracked a dark grin after the unexpected call, and came forward, "Of course, I never skip out on my civic duties."

Bakura smirked equally as darkly, and watched the man approach. No one seemed to remember him, they didn't recognise him, he thought Ushio would have…but it appears not.

**Good…**

Soon both Bakura and Kaiba were set up with their customers, and waited for Ushio to begin the match. "The fastest, smoothest shave is the winner!" He announced, and with an ugly smile he snapped his fingers. The wager had begun.

As soon as the sound echoed the men got to work. Joey scrambled around like a headless chicken to make sure Kaiba had everything he needed in his hands within a second's call. The brunet had his nose poised high, flashing his own shining blades and making a performance of it.

Bakura on the other hand, got ready at a calm and steady pace. He caressed his blades, he stroked his blades, he gazed at his blades; they were still as sharp as they had been all those years ago. _How he had missed them…_but now they were reunited, and they would assist him in his plans, for they were as much a victim as he was…

Callously Kaiba slashed his blade up and down the belt to sharpen it one last time, completely ignoring the fact that he was slicing the flesh on Joey's fingers who was on the receiving end. In the audience Malik raised a brow but kept silent like everyone else, including Joey who was biting his lip until it turned red.

If Bakura wasn't strange enough in general, one could joke that he was making love to his blade of choice for this wager, stroking it slowly against his belt, watching it, up and down, _sensually…_

Malik wasn't going to last.

Not long after Bakura realised that Kaiba had begun talking, explaining his method as if it were a verse out the bible. Where this man received his ego, Bakura didn't know, and he didn't care. What he _did_ care about however…was _Ushio_. After sharpening his blade he held it up, his eyes straying to Ushio's bulging neck as he blew the sharp end of the blade… _**How he couldn't wait….**_

On the other side Kaiba stood self-absorbed, glancing briefly every so often to his opponent as he shaved his own customer. Joey struggled to be as fast as possible in his assistance, knowing full well of what punishments would follow when they packed up for the night.

With smooth motions Bakura lathered cream over his customers face, having not looked at Kaiba once. He listened though, and he knew it would take it but a few seconds to slash clean his customer all the while Kaiba gave his speech.

And so did it. After finding the perfect spot to start from, Bakura needed only to invoke his God-given talent and with a few expert strokes the man's face was free of hair and cream. The crowd gasped, he had saw from the corner of his eye as Kaiba swirled his way. He ignored the urge to smirk and return the glance, and instead stepped aside and allowed Ushio to view his professional work.

The Beadle took one look and gave another grin, throwing a hand up as if he were truly joyous. "The winner is Bakura!"

The crowd erupted into applause for the apathetic winner. Kaiba stood staring at Bakura's customer, and shut his mouth as the man rubbed his fingers over his chin, clearly impressed. Kaiba grit his teeth, and shoved his blade at Joey who just missed being stabbed in the eye.

Malik joined the applause, smiling handsomely up at Bakura.

With the implications in Ushio's stares Kaiba stepped up to Bakura, and gave the smallest bow he could muster, "…I see you live up to your words-"

"The five pound," Bakura cut in rudely, staring down at Malik as he wagged his fingers at Kaiba. He knew he was getting on the man's nerves, but he didn't care, it was nothing compared to what had been dealt to him before.

Holding in his embarrassment and swelling resentment to the old ghost, Kaiba pulled out the money and dumped it into Bakura's hand, annoyed by his lack of interest and his own public defeated. "Until we meet again…"

Bakura grunted in disinterest and turned, leaving Kaiba to stare bitterly as he left with his winnings. As he thudded down the stairs Kaiba's nostrils flared, and he turned to his helper, smacking him across the face and shoving him into the room with a string of obscenities.

Malik flinched at the sharp sound and watched with sad eyes as the blond disappeared behind the curtains with his cruel master. The situation bothered him so that he almost didn't register that Bakura had joined him again. Said man took his jacket back from Malik and slipped it on, putting his money away.

"I know it's just my gentle heart but…I do hate to see a boy treated like that."

With little to no concern for the boy, Bakura ignored that line and turned to what did interest him—Ushio.

He didn't hear anymore of Malik's words, nor did he greet the man that approached him, he'd let Malik deal with that. He walked straight up to Beadle Ushio who was saying his departures to a few women. The man turned to him curiously as he approached, and Bakura simply could not hold the slight look of zeal on his face.

"I thank you sir, you are model of integrity."

A superior smirk played over Ushio's face at the compliment and he waved a hand as if it were a common thing he was told, "I do what I can for my community." He then looked at Bakura a little longer than usual in silence, and Bakura almost feared he had been recognised, but the man raised his cane, "An accomplished barber like you must have your own establishment?"

"...I do," Bakura answered after a small debate, "It's in Fleet street, above the Ishtar Meat Pie Emporium, sir." The whole building was as good as his, he knew Malik would raise no disagreement.

For once Ushio's face pulled. "Ishtar's? What are you doing at a place like that?"

"…Cheap boarding," Bakura answered honestly. He wasn't paying a dime.

"And a cheap slut of an owner," the man muttered lowly. Hearing his own words, words a Beadle shouldn't speak, and seeing the raised brow on Bakura, he coughed loudly and gave another fake smile, "Well, you shall surely see me there, Mr Bakura, before the week is out."

_Excitement…_it was rushing through his veins. Ushio said he would come to him… _it would be so bloody easy…_

Bakura had to manually control his show of emotions, and toned it down so that he sounded simply inviting. "You will be welcomed, and I can guarantee to give you, without a pennies charge, the closest shave you will ever know…"

The threat was so loud and clear that it burned right through Bakura's chest as the words left his mouth. It was almost laughable as Ushio accepted it and obliviously swore to return, _to his death_. **Oh yes, perfect, life was finally going **_**his**_** way…**

As the Beadle took his leave, Bakura watched after him with tired longing, his excitement and the day's combined activities leaving him feeling a little tired. A weight appeared on his arm, and he found Malik perched back on him, smiling up at him in what looked like a mother's pride. "Come on, love, let's go home."

_He could wait…he could wait…just a little longer…a __**little**__ longer… He had waited fifteen years to enact his revenge, it was soon to come…he needed only to wait for the exact moment to __**strike**__…and then savour it…_

As the couple walked away back to in Fleet Street, a pair of blazing red eyes watched them from a dark corner. Once they disappeared, the troubled eyes turned to Ushio, and slowly began to follow him home…

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx**

YAAAAAAAY! Another chapter is finito! YAAAAY! I am so relieved. I hope you guys are still enjoying this…

Seto as a barber? HAHA! Ah…no. But for this story, I think he fits well for the spot, all things considered. It can't be perfect…or can it? . If you remember the original character from the movie that I've placed Seto in, the guy "Pirelli" that Borat played, then you'll know it was extremely difficult for me to put Kaiba in his place, I was laughing my head off and trying to make Kaiba NOT like that man, he was totally…flamboyant.

AHHH, I LOVE the situation of 'Puppyshipping' here. In a way it is an extreme canon situation, they hate one another, and Kaiba is practically Joey's master. Joey is a poor servant boy, his survival depends on Kaiba, so he has to obey. In the film Mrs. Lovett has a soft spot for the boy, and I thought I'd bring that into he fic seeing as Malik would be ecstatic to pretend and play house with a new husband and child.

Why does Malik hide from the Beadle as well? That shall be revealed in future chapters.

DA RED EYES DAT FOLLOWED USHIO HOME. Yes…I wonder who that could be… and who in their right mind would follow Ushio home? No one, exactly, so…I'll let that swirl in your brains, those who catch on, good for you! Those that don't, just enjoy the obliviousness and wait to be surprised!

Reviews/comments my friends? This is one of the rare fics where I actually _like_ my work…shocker. I apologize for all the errors, please point them out if you see any.

ALSO, I have posted a new Puppyshipping fic called 'Can We Keep it?', it is my first fic dedicated to Puppyshipping, maybe you'll enjoy it!


	6. Quiet Comeuppance

_HELLO. Surprise! I wasn't supposed to update because I should be writing my novel but I had inspiration after beating some depression so here it is…_

_I do not own YuGiOh or Sweeney Todd._

_Thank you to all my reviewers!_

**WARNINGS, BLOOD AND VIOLENCE IN THIS CHAPTER. Beware**

**Chapter 6: Quite Comeuppance **

Swaggering down the streets of central London, the Beadle Ushio clicked his expensive cane on the stony road, pointing disguised sneers to the poor who sat here and there along the way. He silently shunned them, parading that his silver-chained cane (not to mention his shoes) had more value than these people, _if you could all them that_.

Oblivious to the coordinated stranger following him from a distance, Ushio marched up to the Sennen Mansion, Mariku's lavish home. Being Mariku's right-hand man Ushio enjoyed dozens of perks and creature comforts, his own bedroom could house a dozen orphans. He'd prefer women to fill it, but prostitutes were banned from stepping foot in the mansion, and he had no patience for a woman who would demand love and time from him, so it was empty.

His trip to the town's square had been most interesting. While he had never had a particular opinion about the Barber Kaiba, his public defeat to the sullen man was most entertaining. There was something about the new man he could not quite place, it didn't soon leave his mind and he would indeed tell his master about it. The only thing that put him off, and he knew it would repel Mariku too, was that Mr. Bakura's place of work was above that Malik Ishtar's dingy hole of a shop, neither man wished to see the little whore for reasons kept extremely _hush hush_. The barber's skill was exemplary, however, Ushio wished to have it upon himself as well.

As soon as a maid opened the marvellous front door, Ushio waltzed in, unnecessarily pushing the door into the poor woman who stumbled back, offended, and struggling to balance with a towel and a tray in her hands. The Beadle gave no care to his pomposity and headed down the corridors, stopping when he came across the tea room, Mariku standing at the entrance, hands folded in front of him, face blank.

"Milord, good afternoon."

"Good afternoon indeed," Mariku replied, watching the two people speaking quietly at the far window, just out of ear's reach.

"I see the minister made it." Ushio noted as the Minister Pegasus sipped his tea, staring intently as Ryou spoke softly, eyes to his lap. "His visits are more frequent now." It had only been three days ago that the man had been summoned for a session with the ward, Ryou, and here he was again.

"It would seem improper for me to discuss such matters with Ryou. I do wish to do this the right way, I am a dutiful man, I must go by the book."

"It would seem the minister isn't taking it any easier than your bird," Ushio chuckled quietly, oblivious to the slight glare Mariku threw him.

"So it seems," Mariku muttered sourly. Same-sex marriages where frowned upon, but no one needed to know if he was to have an intimate relationship with the boy. It could be simply for personal reasons like holding up a favour, or political, or even financial reasons. Ryou would be no one without him, he was delicate and too sweet to be let out of his reach, so he needed to keep the child close and safe because that was the right thing to do. He could wed a woman as well as his 'wife', impregnate her and keep the public happy, then go home to his sweet, sweet Ryou…

Of course he meant all too well to have an intimate relationship with the boy, but being the formal man he was he wanted their union bound by his laws Ryou would be married to him by the law and under God, and he could then truly call the boy _his_.

'_Boy'…_

Being a Godly and strict man to the laws, Mariku acknowledged the natural order of life between males and females, but the more Ryou grew, the more Mariku saw him as a little miracle. Others saw him as an oddity. Mariku saw him as a miracle. How merciful that God sent down the little pale angel to him when his ruby-eyed beauty was ripped from his reach… Surely this was a sign that it was no sin to wed (and bed) his ward? The boy didn't have a masculine bone in his body, and that wasn't even Mariku's doing. So it had to be God's, Mariku believed. He was deformed, yes, and it was a kind thing for Mariku to accept him and see his beauty, _love_ his beauty. Any other man who did was only dancing in filthy lust that urged to take advantage of the child's abnormality. Mariku loved him, he cared for him, he was doing a good thing. And Ryou should be grateful, not reluctant, Mariku thought to himself.

In the room on the plush Victorian sofa, pulling at his finger nails, Ryou listened to the good Minister speak.

"When last did you confide in Mr. Sennen about your nightmares?" Minister Pegasus prodded, putting down his tea.

Ryou noticed a second person had appeared besides Mariku in the door way, and after a few moments they left together. His shoulders dropped slightly, but his knees still presses into one another painfully, his fingers twiddling obsessively, his eyes unable to stay in one place.

"Ryou?" Pegasus pressed.

"Uh…not recently." He admitted.

"Why not? You know he is always concerned about you."

'_A little too often…_' "I know…"

Pegasus hummed and glanced at the doorway, finding them to be alone, and leaned back with a sigh. "How many sessions have we had so far, Ryou?"

The beautiful boy frowned to himself, avoiding eye contact, and shrugged, "Many…" Too many in too little time, it was all too rushed, Ryou felt.

"And you've been thinking about what we talk about?"

"…" How could he think about anything when nothing he said made a difference?

"Ryou, dear, I can only prepare you so much. You know the saying, you can take a horse to the water but you cannot make it drink. You can't keep avoiding what is bothering you."

Ryou scowled lightly, and looked away. He did not wish to disrespect the Minister, but could not fake enthusiasm for this topic. He couldn't, he _**wouldn't.**_

"Many young ladies-and men- are frightened of marriage. But there is nothing to fear! It is a beautiful thing created by God for us, and you will feel happier once you are married, you will know just how much the Judge cares for you when you finally realise the gravity and meaning of marriage. It is a sacred bond, child, you should be honoured he has chosen you."

_Marriage…to Judge Mariku…it frightened Ryou terribly. _

He was not ready for marriage, he did not even know who _he_ was! But he did know…he did not love Mariku. The man intimidated him and all he could see was an authority figure, _not a lover. Just barely a friend._

Ryou heard the maids chatting many a time about their husbands and lovers, giggling about their love life, and just the thought of Mariku's large hands on his bare thighs scared him to death. It was dirty and he felt burdened by the mere thought of it.

While Mariku had never assumed a fatherly figure over Ryou, that did not mean he could suddenly slip in 'husband'. Ryou was no fool, if he became Mariku's wife he was expected to be his consort, sleep in his bed, kiss his lips, straighten his tie-all those motherly things that a wife was expected to do. What _he_ would be expected to do…

He didn't want to do it, he just wanted to _be_.

"Is Judge Mariku not good to you?" Pegasus asked, making Ryou scowl once more.

That wasn't the problem, it was the basic idea of having to marry the man-!

…Or maybe…maybe he _was_ thinking too much on it…He was already looked upon strangely by the folk in their area, what would he do if he abandoned Mariku and chose to stand on his own? His skills limited him from acquiring a good job (he did not want to become poor, despite his fears of marriage), and he somehow doubted he'd get _any_ job after abandoning Mariku, he knew exactly how spiteful and powerful the man could be. Maybe he had to just accept it…Did all young ladies have this problem? He suddenly felt more sympathy for them, maybe their snobbish exteriors were defence mechanisms, they became shallow so not to harp on their unhappiness…

But he didn't want to end up like that, he couldn't bring himself to accept this!

"I'm waiting for an answer, dear boy."

"He is…" Ryou mumbled bitterly, glancing up at the man with more fire than he intended.

"Well obviously," Pegasus joked, waving around briefly, "You lead a fine life here and you ought to thank Mariku just as much as you do the Might Lord! The only thing you need worry about is gracing the Judge with your sweet presence and being a good wife, it's much easier than what he has to do every day."

Ryou wouldn't know, Mariku did not speak of his trials and judgements around him, he said they were too dark a tales for such fair ears to hear. Oh how he was dying to argue, but each time he did Pegasus reminded him of the many people suffering and that he should be grateful for the life he was born into. A part of him wished to stand abruptly, tear off the skirt of his dress with a loud "OH BUGGER ALL OF THIS!" and storm out to find a life to call his own…but the other part of him couldn't be that selfish and reckless, he was indeed blessed with this life and throwing it away would be an insult to God and Mariku…

"I…"

"Yes?" Pegasus leaned forward, looking genuinely interested, "Speak dear child, I am here to help you with this."

Ryou sighed and fidgeted, unable to look the man in the eye. He felt like a disobedient child, but at the same time he wished he could be heard seeing as how he was being treated like an adult. "I just…" he didn't know how to phrase it without upsetting Judge Mariku further, "…I…I feel…trapped…"

"Oh dear Ryou, there is no need to feel that!" the man exclaimed, jumping up and hopping around the table to seat himself besides Ryou. He leaned over and gently placed his hands on Ryou's arms, gaining his attention. "Once married you will feel relieved! It is not a prison sentence-" (Ryou could disagree) "-but rather a guarantee to a secure life. You need only be faithful and you shall be happy. You will still enjoy all your hobbies and activities, and once married you will make new friends, you will become an adult and mingle freely with the other decent men and woman instead of shying like a child as you do now. You will have an honourable status! You will have respect and admiration! And of course, the eternal love and protection from Lord Mariku. You are young and fear for your freedom to move about, but I can tell you you shall have even _more_ freedom. Imagine, you can take a maid with you, have one of the butlers drive you to whichever store you like and shop whenever you like while Mariku works, you can visit recreational sites at your leisure and be welcomed as an important guest! Can you see now? It's a brilliant life!"

That was part of what bothered Ryou, but not the biggest. Yes he feared being locked up and never seeing the light of day again, but what the Minister was failing to mention were the interactions a usual married couple engaged in. The…_adult_ things…he flushed tomato red just thinking about them. He had never experienced such things, Mariku caressing his back was quite enough. He didn't know how to voice this problem…

"Is their something else you wish to say, dear?"

Ryou swallowed, and took a deep breath as a clever idea shone like a blub in his mind. "…What about children, Minister? I cannot provide Lord Mariku with those, and isn't that a very big part of marriage?"

Pegasus's face twisted into surprise before morphing into a mask of confidence, sinking Ryou's own. "You are a smart and considerate dear for thinking of that! But never you mind, Judge Mariku has made it quite clear to me he has no immediate need for children and shall tackle that little snag when the time comes. He loves you as you are."

Deep inside Ryou's little hopes crashed down into his stomach, but he fought to keep his face stoic, impassive and gave the smallest of nods. "O-Okay."

"All will come naturally!" Pegasus crooned, clasping his hands. For a moment his fake smile faltered and he pulled an odd face, looking off. "I do not blame you for being unsure, I myself questioned Mariku on this decision many times…but alas! He is confident in his choice! And as one of such wisdom as our High-court Judge we need not fear his choices."

'_What about _my _choices…_' Ryou thought, dejected, dropping his shoulders and his will. '_Maybe I am being silly…maybe this is how everything goes…_'

Walking the corridors of the huge stone mansion Mariku grinning and joked with Ushio, intrigued by the barber story and pondering the idea of a trip to the winning barber.

"Even Ryou will then find it hard not to blush for you," Ushio encouraged, enjoying the sadistic smirks the Judge would slyly pull, knowing full well what scenes were frolicking in his mind, having thought a few of them himself.

"I suppose he might warm up faster to the idea if I present myself better, he is always so well kept…" Mariku muttered to himself, and pulled a face, "But why must it be _there_?" he grumbled, glowering at Ushio. Ishtar's was the last pace he wanted to be.

"Perhaps this _Bakura_ has only just started his business in town and cannot afford better lodgings." Ushio speculated, eyeing two young maids as they scurried past, "He did seem proficient enough in his skill. We need not bother with the Ishtar dump, this is for Ryou, remember."

"I could not forget even if I so desired," Mariku smirked, his thoughts wandering off to his sweet angel, and to when he first asked- …_told_ Ryou they were to wed.

"_Ryou, could you spare me a moment?" Mariku called as he approached Ryou in the communal study, gazing at the near identical image of the view outside the window blotched over Ryou's favourite easel. _

_The little male turned abruptly and gave a smile in greeting. He put down his brush and dusted his hands on his apron before bouncing over daintily, in the way never failed to make Mariku's heart clench. __**Such beauty…**_

"_Yes, Milord?" Ryou asked, his eyes so large and innocent._

_Mariku smiled affectionately and lifted off the apron from Ryou would frowned but complied, wiping his blue dress down for imaginary creases. But he didn't wipe for long as Mariku took both his hands into his own rough palms, holding Ryou's little fingers firmly yet gently._

"…_M-Mariku?" Ryou asked softly, leaning back inconspicuously._

"_My dazzling Ryou, I have excellent news."_

"_Oh?"_

"_I've sat down with Minister Pegasus and Dartz and settled it."_

"_Settled what?"_

"_Our marriage of course. You don't think I had forgotten did you?"_

"_N-n-no, M-milord…I thou-I…they said yes?"_

"_Minister Pegasus has agreed to wed us and see us through it. Soon you will have nothing to worry about in this world, my sweet. I'll take care of everything…"_

_The kiss to the boy's cheek was almost too much for Mariku, and it left Ryou frozen. The skin so soft, the breathe from those plump lips so close, just a small tilt of his face and he could have captured them between his own, suckle softly and taste once his intended gave him passage. If only he had grasped that long neck and captured those lips, kissing his way into the unexplored territory of his little ward, pressing his dark skin into Ryou's white flesh, waiting for those round cheeks to blossom with more splendour than that of an angel. _

_But if he had, he knew he wouldn't have been able to stop himself from ravishing the poor thing, pressing him into the nearest surface so he couldn't escape, and starting from his knees, running his thick fingers up curves of the shivering skin. To feel the flesh of his inner thighs, to hold his slim waist, to slip his hands down and around the soft young buttocks and cup it, squeezing ever so roughly to ignite wantons mewling that of a whore, but only for __**his**__ ears and __**his**__ ears alone…_

_Ryou seemed too shocked to reply properly, so he took his leave to avoid any resistance and did not offer any sort of reprieve when the topic came up again…Ryou would be his no matter what. In the end the child would come to see it is best._

Cackling, Ushio patted Mariku on the back and glanced at his wrist-watch, humming thoughtfully. "If my services are not required, I have a little some where to be. If that is well with you, Milord."

"If you must. I don't approve of your mingling with the harlots but as long as you are not caught." Mariku grumbled. His Beadle could not be seen enjoying the pleasures of loose women, it could give him an ill name. He did not respect prostitutes in the least and if he could he would have them all thrown in jail, but the jails were already full of murders and thieves, which were more harmful than the whores. A woman was to marry or work for her livelihood, not disgrace the body the Lord gave her by selling it in carnal sins. He was determined to keep Ryou pure until marriage, it was the proper thing to do, perhaps it might atone for his past sins. And no one could ever point fingers at either of them.

Ushio gave a slight but grateful bow and tipped his hat, "I shall be back within two hours should you need me."

"Hmm."

Free to roam, Ushio turned and took his leave. His leather custom-made Italian shoes clipped royally on the lightly carpeted wood of the floor and he headed to the front door and out into the darkening streets. The day was waning, the usually cloud-veiled sun taking an early leave. Much like he would after getting what he was heading for.

Being _him_ there was no need to fear anything, he was a large strong man, and very well known as Judge Mariku's confidant. And so with his superior mind-set he strutted through the town's roads, eventually taking a quick short cut to save time and the pesky beggar women that loafed around the churches. The brothels were a few blocks away, but he was heading for an underground brothel, one married men and honourable men snuck to so to avoid being caught, it was a very secret organisation. Surprising Ushio, Mariku never once stepped foot near it, the man truly was admirable.

Heading down a coincidently dark alley, Ushio stopped and blinked to his left, having heard the softest tippety-tap of another pair of shoes. He glanced over his shoulder, squeezing his cane and ready to teach someone a lesson, but there was no one there, nothing but the garbage and dark stone walls.

"Hnn." He grunted, and carried on walking.

_Tip, tap…_

He stopped again and turned this time, a scowl eventually setting on his face. "Who is there, you street rats! I have no time to mess about." He called, "I am an important man, I cannot be interrupted so."

"Not even for me?" sung a soft alluring voice. A second later two pairs of arms swooped beneath his own pair from the back and wrapped around his wide chest. "Hey!"

"Shh, shh, _shh_, I don't bite…" the voice breathed. Ushio had never heard anything like it, could not tell if it was male or female, ugly or attractive, but it was intriguing, and he struggled to look around his shoulders, but the person was much smaller than he was, wearing a cloth over their head. Looking back to what he could see, he looked at the person's arms and hands, finding them to be small and petite, red polish adorning each finger nail. Stereotyping Ushio grunted, believing the stranger was a female, and gave a huff.

"I will shove you off if you don't let go." He warned, curious to know who had him in their pathetic yet queer grasp.

"Oh but why?" the person breathed, digging the pads of their fingers into his chest teasingly, "I thought you loved this."

"Who are you?" he asked, moving to shrug out of their grasp. But the person held on, and suddenly hooked a leg over his left leg. He couldn't see the tattered material cover slim leg, but it felt good enough to keep him from pulling away. A small hand slid away from his chest to rub up and down his back and the other continued to caress his chest. He hummed softly, intrigued by the little masked menace.

"…Who am I?" the voice repeated after a while, not to Ushio it seemed, but rather to their self. "…No one…but…an angry ghost."

Ushio's half lidded eyes creaked open at the odd mumble and he leaned back slightly when the hand massaging his back disappeared. "Ghost?" he repeated lamely, closing his eyes once more with a crooked smirk as two hands were once more on his chest. He failed to see the gleam of light that shone as the returning hand lifted elegantly, clenching around the weapon he was oblivious to.

"…Your Angel of Death," the stranger whispered in his ear, tightening every grip he had on him. Ushio's eyes shot open and he was about to force his way around to stop the foolery (for he hated beating around the bush) and grab the woman, but the poised hand taunted him with a wicked shine. In a second his mind raced as it acknowledged his situation, and with a hard thump his heart twisted in fear.

Time all around him stopped as he took his last breath, and with a sick _thud_ the aiming hand connected with his chest, a bloodied choke signalling the burial of the knife.

Nothing but chokes and gurgles could be formed as pain severed Ushio's nerves, and as if that wasn't enough, the person attacking him twisted the blade, tearing apart his very heart.

The little figure pressed up against the stumbling man with a grunt of effort, making sure the knife remained buried. The person laughed breathlessly, looking up at the gasping man as if peering across heaven, as if he had won a prize. Soon he could no longer hold his weight and jumped to the side, dumping the body onto the cold stone of the deserted alley.

Looking up with wide eyes and a stream of blood from the left corner of his lips, Ushio reached with trembling hands to his chest, unable to look away as the figure stepped over him.

"I hoped that would hurt," the person teased, kicking away the shaking hands. The cloth was still draped over their head, as well as their body, but as if hearing Ushio's mental cries, the person lifted their face, cackling as Ushio now tried to look away with incoherent blubbers. "Recognise me? Good. Now you can die knowing _**WHY**_!" The hooded man screamed, and with a vicious cry he stomped a foot on the tip of the knife's handle, forcing it straight through the impaled body. The blade connected with the ground and the tip snapped off from the force, the handle of the knife just barely sticking out from Ushio's clothing as blood rose up and pooled.

Gasping for breath like a mad man, the red-eyed male stepped away from his handiwork and glanced at his clothes for any sign of blood. When none was found, he turned with an angry smirk and left quietly, wondering how long it would take before he would hear screams from the Beadle's discovery…

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx**

Another chapter done! Some Ryou and Mariku, and then USHIO DEATH. RED EYES KILLED HIM. I call him…ROOOODEY.

Okay on a serious note, Mariku's surname will be Sennen. Malik's is Ishtar, we shall discover why soon.

Though it's frowned upon, it's not a crime in their town to marry the same gender. And while it's certainly frowned upon, Mariku is a Judge for the law, not a priest, and he is technically a foreigner, being of Egyptian heritage, so being from another land and powerful in this, no one would bother to argue with Mariku's wish to wed a young boy. Ancient civilizations did plenty of similar things and if not, then it was most likely done in secret. So the idea is not outrageously new. Mariku believes (and has often said to whoever mattered) that Ryou was sent to him especially, and he needed to care for and guide him in this evil life. He believes he is doing Ryou good. And he would be, if Ryou wanted to be with him, which he does not. Ryou is still a child at heart.

How to Mariku and Ushio know Malik? That too will be revealed in coming happy, praise Teenie for that idea! WHOOP WHOOP. Thank you all for reading, I don't know when I'll update again, I'm not supposed to be here! But shhhh…I might pop up again…

Comments would be very inspirational, especially now as I write my fantasy novel~


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